Sunday Night Sex Talk
by Priah
Summary: With only a trace left of 7th year, Hermione makes a startling discovery. She is given the task of teaching her peers of the sexual phenomenon, with only Draco Malfoy as an assist. Too much sex talk with Malfoy can lead to interesting things. DHr
1. Third Moon

A/N: One of my favorite times of the week is 11pm on a Saturday. Why? Sex with Sue, of course! Sex with Sue is an informational talk show in which people call up and ask a very old lady questions that have to do with sex, and they're HYSTERICAL, because these people are so STUPID. So, a combination of this and the fact that I am going through a sex education course at school and the questions my peers ask boarder on the lines of those asked on Sue's show, I got to thinking; why not incorporate it? I do everything else. So, here we go. This fic will be pretty much pointless humor; a sidestep from my normal writing, but hell I'm itching to write it.  
  
-x- -x- -x-  
  
Chapter One: The Curse of the Third Moon  
  
Hermione was so bored and overcome with free time that she decided to do her Saturday night rounds a second time, just to make sure. As head girl, she was given a long list of responsibilities, for which she was thankful. Contrary to popular belief, she did not do all her homework weeks in advance; as much as she would have liked to, it was nearly impossible. There was no way she could know what the exact assignment was, or the next essay or quiz; most of the teachers didn't even make their lesson plans that far ahead.  
  
So, with no homework to get ahead on and nothing for the day assigned, Hermione resigned to simply wander the corridors on her weekly route, snooping for meandering students. Harry and Ron had been out on the pitch every night until seconds before curfew, getting in as much practice in the twilight as possible before being caught. They'd become addicted. Hermione often wondered what they'd do if the pitch was suddenly closed for remodeling; she doubted study.  
  
As she made her way down another deserted hallway, almost expecting tumbleweed to flutter by, Hermione sighed. Walking really wasn't much of an upgrade from sitting in the common room or reading in bed. She kicked her feet as she walked, scuffing the hallway and tainting the quiet. When the shuffling became too little to amuse her, Hermione turned to humming, making it successfully to the end of the hallway before spinning on a heel and starting to retrace her steps. Pausing to breathe, she was interrupted, and her ears perked at the sound. From somewhere close by, someone was giggling. Alert and sure to remain quiet, Hermione cautiously approached a nearby door, suspicious of possible occupants in the room beyond. The giggling sounded again, but was cut short, and a low hiss accompanied it. Now, Hermione was sure she'd missed some frisky teenagers, and drew her wand to quietly unlock the door.  
  
She thrust the wooden slab open with a bang, startling the two students entangled in the lounge-like room. They were spread out on a delicate tapestry, draped over the floor, but jumped apart quickly at her entrance.  
  
"Parvarti?" she asked, astounded, and the girl on the floor looked up in alarm. She recognized the intruder immediately and smiled sheepishly, waving.  
  
"Hey, Hermione," Parvarti greeted, pulling up the sleeve of her unbuttoned shirt. Hermione, shaking her head, looked between the girl and her disheveled partner, who was staring in disbelief, breathing slightly labored.  
  
"No; oh no, this is not happening. Parvarti, how could you? You know the rules; I'm going to have to tell McGonagall..."  
  
"No!" chorused the criminals crouched on the floor. They turned their eyes to each other, lustful and nervous.  
  
"Just... let me take care of it," Parvarti whispered to her boyfriend, then kissed him quickly before getting to her feet and walking toward Hermione, pulling her into the hall and away from the scene of the crime.  
  
"I can't believe you! How could you be so irresponsible?" Hermione lectured, but her words were lost on her housemate.  
  
"Hermione, please, just shove off," she pleaded. "I don't see how it's the schools business what I do. It's Justin's birthday; I promised him I'd, you know... make it a good one. Can't we just pretend you never found us?"  
  
"No, we absolutely cannot! Rules are rules; I can't just LET you copulate in an empty classroom! Even if it weren't illegal, I'd still have my conscience if something happened to you," Hermione explained. "And it WOULD be the school's business if, god forbid, you came out pregnant!" Parvarti stared at her superior with wide eyes, listening wholly to her words. It was as Hermione finished that she burst into laughter.  
  
"Oh, Hermione, don't be such a prude! I'm not going to get pregnant. I can't, not tonight."  
  
"What do you mean you can't? Of course you can!"  
  
"Don't be silly; there isn't a full moon tonight," Parvarti pointed out, crossing her arms and lifting her chin as if she'd proved Hermione an utter loon.  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?" the Head Girl shouted in return, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "We're talking about procreation, not werewolves!" Parvarti dropped her arms and stared at Hermione, looking slightly confused.  
  
"How can it be the third full moon of my cycle without there BEING a full moon?" she said by means of explanation, but her words fit no pieces into Hermione's puzzle of a brain.  
  
"What?" she asked, anger and disbelief still tainting her volume. Parvarti now looked at the Head Girl as if she really WERE a mooncalf.  
  
"Hermione, you can only get pregnant on the third full moon of your cycle; everyone knows that. I'm perfectly safe; Justin's a virgin too, we won't get sick. Please, just let us be?" she repeated, clasping her hands together and jutting her bottom lip. Hermione stood speechless, gaping at her friend. Parvarti continued to pout and plead until her captor was freed from shock and took her shoulders, shaking them.  
  
"Are you out of your mind?" Hermione asked, emphasizing each word with jostle of a collarbone. "Who told you that?"  
  
"It's common knowledge, Hermione... don't they teach you anything in the muggle world? I've known since I was... at least twelve."  
  
"Parvarti! This logic makes no sense! Your cycle is 28 days; that's only enough time for ONE full moon, at the most. How could you ever be on your third?" Hermione pointed out, staring her roommate full in the face. Parvarti was speechless for a moment, contracting her mouth like a fish out of water.  
  
"But... I..."  
  
"Go back to the common room. You're on house arrest for three days; no leaving except for meals and class unless otherwise approved by me," Hermione dictated, releasing the student and placing her hands threateningly on her own hips. Parvarti spared a glance into the room she had previously occupied, where Justin was standing against the wall, watching the conversation without an inkling of what was being said.  
  
"Can't I just say goodnight?" she asked, her walls of resistance all but crumbled. She was truthfully considering her captor's words; what if she were wrong? Hermione remained rigged and unblinking. "Please? It's his birthday..."  
  
"I think you've given Justin more than a goodnight kiss. Go; you're lucky I'm not going to tell McGonagall," Hermione instructed, and Parvarti's eyes widened.  
  
"You're not?"  
  
"Not about what you were doing. I'll have to mention that you were out past curfew, but as to why... I'll let it go this one time," she granted reluctantly. Parvarti threw her arms around Hermione.  
  
"Oh, thank you!" she cheered before blowing a kiss to Justin and scampering off. Hermione lifted a hand into the air, beckoning her remaining perpetrator with a curled index finger. Guiltily, Justin walked forward.  
  
"Hey, Hermione," he said sheepishly, eyes trained on his shoes. Hermione remained professional.  
  
"Happy birthday, Justin," she granted and his cheeks burned red.  
  
"Not so much anymore, no," he admitted, voice low. Hermione dropped her rigid posture, feeling slightly guilty.  
  
"I'm sorry," she told him. "It's for your own good, you know." Justin nodded sadly, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. Hermione sighed. "I have to tell Professor Flitwick; as Head Girl and a member of another house, it's my duty to..."  
  
"Inform my head of house, I know. Can I go? Please? This isn't much above mortifying for me, you know," Justin broke in impatiently, cheeks glowing.  
  
"Well, if you'd listen to me, you know that I plan only to punish you for being out past curfew and not for... your other antics," Hermione stated smugly, smirking, and Justin looked up, surprised.  
  
"Really?" he asked and she verified with a nod. "Thank you, Hermione. My mother would kill me." Hermione smiled, but they lapsed into silence.  
  
"Go on, now; I don't want to have to escort you," she said, prompting Justin to scurry off. With a sigh and a head heavy from a nights work done, Hermione locked the classroom door and returned to the common room.  
  
Hermione entered the Gryffindor sanctuary and looked around the room for her best friends; both of whom should have returned from the pitch nearly half an hour ago. There were only a few students littered about the room and none seemed to be the famous Harry Potter or his hot-tempered best friend. Deciding that her newly acquired information could not wait to be analyzed, Hermione approached one of the seventh year boys.  
  
"Neville?" she asked softly, hating to disturb the almost-quiet of the common room. Neville looked up in alarm from his place in an armchair; he was reading an assigned text, but his eyes were glazed over, as if he couldn't understand a word decoded. "Have Harry and Ron come back yet?" Neville knitted his eyebrows and turned his gaze to the floor, concentrating on remembering. All at once, his face lit up.  
  
"Actually, they just came in," he informed. "They're probably upstairs changing." Hermione sighed, shaking her head.  
  
"I hate to bother you, Neville, but I'd really like to talk with them; do you think you could go and ask them to come back down?" she asked, batting her eyelashes tastefully, stroking Neville's sense of good will.  
  
"Sure, Hermione," he agreed, shifting to get up from the chair and marking the page in his book. "I should be getting on to bed anyway."  
  
"Thank you, Neville. Good night."  
  
Hermione waited patiently, leaning against the back of a couch, as Neville disappeared up the boys' staircase. She watched a group of exhausted looking first years try to stay awake over their textbooks, cramming for an exam they saw as crucial, but was no doubt petty. Hermione smiled at them; she'd been the same way; innocent in her naivety. It was then that she remembered the reason she needed to speak with Harry and Ron, and turned to watch the staircase eagerly.  
  
Her friends descended together, hesitant and slightly nervous. Hermione shook her head at them as she pushed from the sofa, crossing her arms and looking condescending. They approached her shamefacedly, heads bowed.  
  
"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, coming up to her a meter in front of Ron. Hermione smirked slightly; his 'caught with a cookie' face reminded her distinctly of one Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Look, I know we're a little late, but..." he started and Ron stepped up, cutting him off.  
  
"We thought, since it's Saturday, it'd be wicked to get that new move down and really smoke Hufflepuff at tomorrows match. Harry said you'd- oaf," he explained, but Harry jabbed his friend in the ribs upon realization that he was blowing their cover.  
  
"What Ron MEANS to say," he said, emphasizing his point and glaring at Ron, who grinned sheepishly. "Is that we went out early and lost track of time. Isn't that right, Ron?"  
  
"Erm, yeah; yeah, that's what I meant, exactly," he agreed, nodding fervently. Hermione raised an eyebrow, hips cocked and arms crossed. She fancied them both with a disbelieving stare, letting them boil in the tense quiet while she played off their fears.  
  
"You both know I don't believe a word you're saying, don't you?" she asked, sounding amused, and the faces of both boys fell. They stared at her with puppy-dog eyes and pouting lips, hoping their charm would get them a free scrape with the law. Hermione laughed. "Don't worry, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. You're off the hook, for tonight." Surprised and relieved, both boys grinned, sharing a look before turning their attention to Hermione.  
  
"Sure thing; what can we do for you?" Harry asked, as always a gentleman.  
  
"I'm conducting an experiment," she explained. "I need your help." At once, the short lived relief of the boys melted, and they seemed more panicked than when being scolded for breaking curfew.  
  
"This isn't going to be like the toad kissing one, is it?" Ron asked, face turning a bit green. "I kissed more frogs than I ate slugs."  
  
"Ron, please," Hermione said, exasperated. "That was second year; I was twelve. Get over it."  
  
"What is it, then, Hermione?" Harry asked, anxious to be rid of her torment. Hermione smiled.  
  
"Aw, come on, boys; am I really all that bad?"  
  
Harry and Ron shared a look, but decided against answering. Hermione laughed airily and rolled her eyes.  
  
"All right, all right; love you too," she grumbled, then readied herself for the big question, choosing her words carefully. "This is a hypothetical situation," she began, remaining professional and making eye contact with both boys before moving on. They again shared a nervous look. "Harry, for you, I am Cho Chang." At Harry's obvious joy, she reminded him, "Hypothetically. Ron, for you, I'm..." she paused for a moment, thinking, then shrugged. "Wonder Witch." Ron's eyes glazed over.  
  
"I'm liking this experiment," Ron commented, looking eager, his ears turning slightly inward as he listened.  
  
"Quiet, muggle, or I'll have to use my... impartiality shackles!" Hermione scolded, using her best Wonder Witch voice and posing as if for propaganda. Ron swooned.  
  
"Let's get on with this before we need a drool cup," Harry suggested, laughing lightly at his friend. Hermione, grinning nodded.  
  
"All right, all right; you both know your assignments?" she asked and they nodded in unison. "Good. Now, say I want to have a one night stand. What do you say?"  
  
"Bloody, hell! What kind of a question is that?" Harry burst out, going red to the tips of his ears, but Ron leaned against the couch for support; she'd just recited his fantasy.  
  
"I'd say... bring your shackles."  
  
"Ron!" Harry cursed, looking around the room as if make sure no one had heard the conversation. All but one of the first years was now either tucked in bed or had fallen asleep on their texts, and no one else was paying much attention.  
  
"Harry, just answer the question," Hermione beseeched. "Remember, it's Cho; not me."  
  
"I don't... I think... no. No, of course not," he assured, rather hesitantly, shaking his head. Ron was staring as if he'd had three heads.  
  
"CHO CHANG, Harry! Think about it!" he said, amazed.  
  
"It doesn't work if you LIE, Harry. This is all in the name of science," Hermione reminded him, and Harry sighed, checking the room again for anyone with their nose too close to his business.  
  
"All right, I would. Of course I would. You'd have to be queer not to. And even then..."  
  
"Okay, Harry, we get it," Hermione interrupted, laughing. "Next question; I want to do it tonight. It's a full moon. Any objections?" Ron promptly shook his head, but Harry was again hesitant.  
  
"What does the lunar standpoint have to do with anything? Are we outside? Wouldn't it be cold?"  
  
"Harry," Hermione and Ron scolded in unison, both becoming impatient. He held up his hands in defense.  
  
"All right; no, no objections."  
  
"Good," Hermione chided, then attentively held out her hands, as if testing the waters. "What if I mentioned that there had been two full moons since... since my last rag?" Ron and Harry tensed in unison. Their calm and relaxed demeanors shattered and they stood like tin soldiers. Hermione sighed softly. "Objections?"  
  
"Are you insane, Hermione?" Harry asked, always the logical one. "Of COURSE I don't want to impregnate Cho Chang! We're seventeen!" Hermione dropped her head into her hands, groaning. With one last sprig of hope, she looked to Ron Weasley... and knew it was lost cause.  
  
"Ron?" she asked, seeing nothing to lose by asking his opinion. He looked thoughtful, and a bit more relaxed.  
  
"Well," he started. "My initial reaction was 'Hell no', but I'd have to think about it. I mean, I'd be flaming famous! The father of Wonder Witch's heir! Oh, and it'd be a good looking kid too..."  
  
"Ron!" Harry admonished. "What are you saying? Think of the responsibility."  
  
"What responsibility? She's Wonder Witch, Harry; she could threaten to shackle the best care providers in all' England. It'd be great."  
  
"End of experiment. Data acquired, mission complete. Go to bed before I give you detention for breaking curfew," Hermione dictated, holding her thumbs to her temples. Had the whole world gone mad? She needed to have a serious talk with Professor Dumbledore.  
  
-x- -x- -x-  
  
After getting very little sleep worrying about her peers, Hermione rose in the morning with a mission. She readied herself for breakfast and pranced down to the great hall, mind focused. After allowing herself a window of a quarter hour with which to consume two pieces of toast and a boiled egg, Hermione planned to approach the Headmaster with her thoughts on her late night discoveries. While she was eating, however, the sheer conspiracy of Parvarti's ideas became known to her.  
  
"So," asked Padma Patil, who had squeezed her Ravenclaw persona between two feasting Gryffindor, as to speak with her sister. "How was your night, Parv?" she asked, hinting, and Hermione kept an ear open for the other girl's response.  
  
"Uneventful... and yet enlightening," she said softly, voice hushed over her cornflakes and cream. Padma lifted an eyebrow.  
  
"But I though you and Justin were supposed to..." she started, but Parvarti shushed her. She shifted her eyes to Hermione, who was doing a very good job of pretending to be interested in a completely different conversation, occurring between Harry and Ron.  
  
"I got caught," she whispered. Padma gasped.  
  
"Really? By whom?" she asked.  
  
"Hermione."  
  
"Oh," Padma said with a sigh. Parvarti frowned deeply, again shifting her eyes to the Head Girl. "It could have been worse," she tried to encourage. "It could have been Snape." Parvarti shuddered.  
  
"Not making me feel better. The thing is... she said something."  
  
"Well, of course she did. She's Hermione, and Head Girl to boot. You'd have a better chance of being struck by lightning than having her let you off the hook. It's just her way; she's a stickler for the rules."  
  
"No," Parvarti corrected. "She said something else. Padma, have you ever had your third moon?" Padma looked surprised for a moment, then shrugged.  
  
"I don't really keep track unless I'm planning an innuendo. I must have; why?"  
  
"Hermione said it's impossible."  
  
"What?" Padma asked, confused. "How can it be impossible? If it were, no one would get pregnant, and we wouldn't have people!"  
  
"That's what I thought... but you know, I've never really... HAD mine. It's just, never happened. In fact, I've never had a second moon," Parvarti shared, prodding her soggy cornflakes. Padma laughed.  
  
"Are you wondering if she's right? Of course she isn't; she can't be. Everyone knows about the third moon."  
  
"But she's Hermione. When was the last time she was wrong?" Parvarti pointed out, looking up at her sister with wondering eyes. Padma's smile faltered.  
  
"What do you want to do; ask Madam Pomfrey? Oi, Madam... can I get pregnant if it's not my third moon?" she mocked, then laughed. "She'll think you've gone mad." Parvarti nodded.  
  
"I guess you're right. It just got me wondering."  
  
"Well, pay attention to your next rag, then, won't you? You're so naïve. I'm going back to my breakfast... and my boyfriend," Padma said before getting up from the bench and stalking back to the Ravenclaw table, now sparsely occupied as students began to filter out and enjoy their last day free of classes. Parvarti left soon after her sister, leaving the Great Hall without eating much of anything by means of breakfast. Hermione stayed behind, rethinking her talk with Dumbledore. Exactly how many people believed in this 'third moon' nonsense? She needed to conduct more tests. Where better to start than her partner in crime; her comrade in conduct; the all-influential Head Boy?  
  
Where was Malfoy when you needed him?  
  
-x- -x- -x-  
  
A/N: I know; I told you it'd be weird. For those of you who have read my other work, you probably think Draco and Hermione are going to get together. Frankly, I don't know yet. This story isn't going to be a mushy romance, I'll tell you that. It's just an idea that struck me, and I ran with it. Those who've read it find it interesting.  
  
I re-uploaded this because there were some errors. I'd like to point out that these errors were my computer/fanfiction.net's fault. I'm not an idiot, I know  
  
***-x- -x- -x- in the sibility."pinion. new it was lost cause.  
  
Harry asked, always the logical one. "alm and relaxed demeanors shattered and they stood like tin soldiers. Hermione sighed sof***  
  
Isn't at all grammatical. You'd have to have dyslexia and turrets syndrome to have something like that come out of your fingers, and god knows what to believe it makes sense. So all of you who said "You need to proof read. You have some serious mistakes" Please take no offense why I call you complete idiots. I'm sorry, but I do proofread. Repeatedly. And one thing that pisses me off the absolute most is when people tell me to do something I've already done. Beach can tell you that. And, I'd like to point out, that if you thought that was a mismark of my fingers, you're an idiot. Didn't you notice that all of that had been already said? Honestly, people. I think we need to be a little more observant. 


	2. For Taste of Olive Juice

Once Upon a Time During SEX:  
  
"What do you want to do; ask Madam Pomfrey? Oy, Madam... can I get pregnant if it's not my third moon?" she mocked, then laughed. "She'll think you've gone mad." Parvarti nodded.  
  
"I guess you're right. It just got me wondering."  
  
"Well, pay attention to your next rag, then, won't you? You're so naïve. I'm going back to my breakfast... and my boyfriend," Padma said before getting up from the bench and stalking back to the Ravenclaw table, now sparsely occupied as students began to filter out and enjoy their last day free of classes. Parvarti left soon after her sister, leaving the Great Hall without eating much of anything by means of breakfast. Hermione stayed behind, rethinking her talk with Dumbledore. Exactly how many people believed in this 'third moon' nonsense? She needed to conduct more tests. Where better to start than her partner in crime; her comrade in conduct; the all-influential Head Boy?  
  
Where was Malfoy when you needed him?  
  
-x- -x- -x-  
  
Chapter Two: For Taste of Olive Juice  
  
Hermione burst into her dorm just before lunch with her teeth clenched and her fists furious. She had spent all of three hours looking for Draco and had seen neither hide nor hair of the big headed blond. She'd even stooped to asking help from Slytherin, which proved lost cause as they'd rather have bitten off her fingers than helped her.  
  
It was for this reason that, when she entered to see her counterpart hanging upside down and asleep on the couch in their common room, Hermione exploded. She was shocked for a moment, mouth agape, but her rage soon boiled over. She stalked up behind the couch with heavy steps and placed her palms to the soles of Draco's shoes. Hermione pushed hard against them, causing the blonde to flip unceremoniously off the couch and land sprawled, face down on the floor.  
  
"Bloody hell, Granger," he cursed, getting to his feet. "What in the seven circles of hell did you do that for?" Hermione was in no mood to answer any question he might pose.  
  
"Where the hell have you been, Malfoy? I've been looking for you since breakfast!"  
  
"Aw, I didn't know you cared," Draco said impassively, concentrating on picking invisible lint balls off his robes. Hermione stood livid a few feet away, separated by only the leather settee, but she didn't seem to faze him.  
  
"Malfoy!" Hermione whined, nearly stomping her foot. Draco chuckled, smoothing back his hair.  
  
"Don't cry now," he teased, earning himself a heated glare. "All right, back off. You couldn't have been looking hard; I've been here nearly the entire time. Stopped by Snape's office to ask about extra credit, met some Ravenclaw near a broom closet and was... occupied there for a bit, hm... I think that's about it," Draco told her, ticking off actions on his fingers and looking up in all innocence. "Why were you looking for me anyway, Granger?" he asked, eyeing her dubiously. Hermione dramatically rolled her eyes before taking a few steps closer to him.  
  
"I need your help," she said, attempting to keep her frustration in check and get through the experiment as calm and quickly as possible. "I'm getting desperate." At this, Draco grinned.  
  
"I knew this would come sooner or later. All right, Granger; tickle your pleasure: one finger or two?" he asked, holding up his index and middle fingers subsequently. Hermione made a face of disgust and slapped him lightly across the face. Draco laughed. "Three?"  
  
"Fuck off, Malfoy; honestly, you're such a jackass."  
  
"Purebred."  
  
"Come on, this is important; are you paying attention?"  
  
"Yes, yes; what is it?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking bored with the situation. Hermione sighed, preparing herself. She had decided to go against the reverse psychology technique used on Harry and Ron and just be blunt with Draco; he either knew or he didn't. There was no point in easing the blow; she didn't particularly even like him.  
  
"Does the term 'Third Moon' mean anything to you?" Hermione asked, looking anxious for his answer. Draco, obviously surprised, stared at her.  
  
"Of course I know what it is, Granger, who do you think I am?" he answered, and Hermione sank to the couch, holding her head. Draco smirked to himself. "Why, Granger? Is it yours? Oh, I see what this is about; fancy a few little Dramiones running around?" Completely turned off to all offense in her devastation at being the only sane person left in England, Hermione looked up at the Head Boy with a relaxed and tired expression.  
  
"That has got to be the stupidest idea to come out of the Wizarding world, honestly; meshing the parents' names together and actually using it as a title for their offspring? Hideous. Who are your parents, Malfoy? Dracula and Olive Oil?"  
  
"You know very well who my parents are," Draco defended, narrowing his eyes at her. Hermione didn't bother to blink. "And by the way, I've met Dracula; he charmed me."  
  
"First you're a jackass and now you're a vampire? Will it ever end?"  
  
"I never said I was a vampire," Draco corrected, "though you'd never know it." Hermione lifted an eyebrow at this comment.  
  
"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said. "But, disregarding your tendency to hide beneath a 'cloak of darkness' and the putrid smell of rotting flesh that lingers near your mouth, I'd say you've nothing in common with a vampire." Draco glared.  
  
"I'll show you, then," he said, turning away from her. Intrigued, Hermione leaned back into the sofa and crossed her legs, waiting for him to 'show her'. Draco seemed to be attempting to lose a tooth; he held it clasped between his forefinger and thumb and jostled it once before doing the same to a tooth on the other side of his mouth. When he turned around, it seemed all his trouble had gone into fixing a dashing smirk on his lips.  
  
"Bet that took a lot of work," she said, rolling her eyes. Draco smiled to spite her, displaying two pearly white, pointed bicuspids. Hermione was visibly surprised. "Good show, Malfoy; I'm impressed. Turned on, even; maybe we should start working on those Dramiones before my moon is lost," she suggested sarcastically and Draco frowned, looking put out. Evidently, he was hoping to get a rise. "Has that EVER worked? On anyone?" He sighed.  
  
"Pansy," he admitted, using the pads of his thumbs to push the charmed teeth back into his gumline. "Though I don't suppose that counts, does it?"  
  
"I'd say no to that, but hey, you could always go find her and make some Pancos and Dransys," she suggested with false enthusiasm and Draco groaned.  
  
"Has anyone ever told you how horrendously annoying you are?" he whined, then paused as Hermione grinned. "It's intriguing," he decided, taking pleasure in the drop of her satisfied countenance. "I'd consider dating you if you weren't in cahoots with all those ruddy Gryffindor." At this, Hermione smirked.  
  
"Oh really? What a coincidence; I'd consider it too. You know, if you weren't... well, you."  
  
"Smooth," he said, rolling his eyes and taking a seat beside her. Hermione seemed self satisfied. "Honestly, Granger; did you spend all that time looking for me just so you could start a verbal spar?"  
  
"As much as I'm sure you'd love the devotion," Hermione answered. "You're insane if you think I'd waste so much time."  
  
"Me insane?" Draco asked, sounding spuriously offended. "You're the one coming in here asking me straight out if I believe in the blinking third moon. You're the one away with the mixer." Hermione looked up, suddenly attentive.  
  
"You mean you don't believe in it?" she asked, sounding genuinely surprised, and Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"Of course I do, Granger. And I believe in the stork and the tooth fairy and walking under a ladder and black cats and Pansy's virginity," he listed sarcastically. "Merlin, don't they teach you anything in the muggle world? Or Astronomy? A third moon couldn't exist if you wanted it to, much less be the only night you can conceive."  
  
"You don't believe in the third moon," Hermione stated, gaping at him.  
  
"Really, Granger? Whatever gave you that idea?"  
  
"Malfoy, I could almost kiss you right now; you're the first person I've met today who isn't clinically insane. Would you believe it, I was asking around; no one had any idea that the third moon was a hoax. I caught P-... some students... doing things last night, and the girl tried to tell me it was all right, because it wasn't her Third Moon. This is a serious problem, Malfoy. I honestly think the school has gone mad," Hermione explained, digging frustrated fingers into her hair. Draco was staring off into space, deep in thought; Hermione suspected he hadn't heard a word she'd said. "Malfoy?"  
  
"I should get a t-shirt..." he said offhandedly, marking out a space on the front of his robes. "Kiss me, I'm sane."  
  
"Malfoy! This is serious! These children could be HAVING children if something isn't done to deter them. As Head Boy and Girl, it's our duty to..." Hermione began, but Draco interrupted her with a pained moan.  
  
"Every time you say that it means I have to do extra work," he whined.  
  
"Well, what do you propose we do? Nothing?"  
  
"Actually, yes; that's exactly what I propose," he said, standing. "Well, now that that's settled." Hermione growled and grabbed his arm, pulling him back onto the sofa.  
  
"Malfoy, this isn't funny. These kids are ruining their lives; do you honestly not care?"  
  
"Granger, you're a muggle so I'll explain this slowly. It's. Nothing. To. Worry. About," he said. "It's just the way things are; when they graduate, their parents will tell them the truth. It's always been like that. Like an ignorance is bliss thing."  
  
"Really?" Hermione asked, eyes narrowed. "Then why don't you believe in it?"  
  
"Because my father is 5,000 years old and lives in Transylvania, and my mother is a drawing made out of rubber," Draco explained calmly, as if it were true. "I learned off the street." Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Could you be any more immature?"  
  
"I could try."  
  
"Spare me," she pleaded, placing her forehead in her hand.  
  
"Make up your mind, woman."  
  
"Malfoy, seriously for a moment, think about this. They're still having sex, even if they don't think they can get pregnant. I don't understand this; the Third Moon is apt to make them have MORE sex. Who thought of this, anyway? Were they ill?"  
  
"Perhaps; hygiene wasn't that great in the fifteenth century," Draco answered, to which Hermione lifted an eyebrow. "Women wanted to get pregnant back then; if you're pregnant, the father would have an obligation to marry you, unlike today. The Third Moon was used to stop the woman from -literally and metaphorically- screwing the men. It worked well and is still used, even though times have changed. Most parents perform contraceptive charms on their kids over the summer; I wouldn't worry about it too much." Hermione listened, open mouthed, as Draco prepared to leave once again.  
  
"That's just so wrong," she stated. "Don't you think?"  
  
"It's just one of those things, Granger. Leave it alone," he said, turning around a few times as if looking for something.  
  
"But it's so dishonest," she debated. "You're misleading them, their entire lives will change when they find out they've been lied to."  
  
"Well, how is that different from telling some ankle-biter that there's a Santy Clause; isn't that dishonest? Misleading? Won't it break their heart when they find out? Does anyone care? No. It's back to that whole ignorant bliss idea. People want to be stupid; I say let them," Draco said as he found the book he was looking for and lifted it from its fallen spot on the floor. Hermione shook her head.  
  
"No, it seems different to me. I want to talk to Dumbledore about it," she stated, not to be deterred. Draco shrugged.  
  
"Knock yourself out, but he already knows; he was young once too, you know."  
  
"Come with me?" she asked, almost pleading. Draco raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he's old... and he's Dumbledore. I can't say the word 'sex' in front of him," she said, making a face and shaking her head.  
  
"So you want to pawn it off on me, then?" Draco asked, sounding amused. "Get a bloke."  
  
"Please, Malfoy? We're supposed to work TOGETHER, hence this shared common room and all that malarkey," Hermione said, motioning to the room in which they spoke.  
  
"Sorry, Granger," Draco said, starting toward his room. "But there's just nothing in it for me."  
  
"What if there was?" she asked, watching him retreat; he didn't pause.  
  
"That would depend on it, then, wouldn't it?"  
  
"What if it got you out of NEWT Transfiguration?" Hermione wondered aloud and Draco halted in his tracks. He turned around slowly, eyes suspicious.  
  
"What are you playing at, Granger?"  
  
"You want to drop, don't you?" she asked and Draco gave a nod.  
  
"She'll never let me," he said. "She hates me, I'm Slytherin."  
  
"She might if I put in a good word; said you were motivated to excel in your other classes. The points you score from working amiably with me couldn't hurt either," Hermione leaned back in the sofa, grinning satisfactorily. She'd caught him by the lip and reeled him in; now she just had to wait until he stopped flopping.  
  
"You drive a hard bargain, Granger," he admitted, pointing his book at her. "But you know I can't say no to that. Tonight, after dinner."  
  
"It's a date."  
  
"Can't be," Draco corrected. "You're still a Gryffindor and I'm still me."  
  
-x- -x- -x-  
  
"Dammit, Granger," Draco said as he walked beside her, hands jammed into his pockets and face twisted into a scowl. "I can't believe you're making me do this."  
  
"So you've said, Malfoy; belt up about it, won't you? I'm not changing my mind and you already agreed."  
  
"Right, right," he said, flashing his eyes to the ceiling. "Word of honor to a lady and all that."  
  
"Touched at your compliments as I am," Hermione noted, preoccupied, "I need you to be quiet for a minute; I can't concentrate." Draco turned to look at her, confused as to what she planned to use the silence to contemplate, and noted emotionlessly that she held in her hand a bound notebook, scribbling furiously with a quill as she attempted to keep up with his quick and agitated pace.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked in pure curiosity, a frown of naivety on his lips. Hermione looked up quickly, unfazed by his genuine question.  
  
"I'm writing down everything I'll need to tell Dumbledore, in case I choke. I probably will, to warn you now; I've never been wonderful at public speaking; especially not about embarrassing topics," she admitted, bowing her head again to continue scribbling. Draco slowed his pace slightly, to ease her burden, and grinned evilly.  
  
"Yes," he agreed. "I think I remember you presenting an oral on a Sensuality Elixir. Quite interesting, that."  
  
"Was that a voluntary promise to pick up wherever I drop off?" she asked sweetly, smiling at him innocently. Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"I suppose. Hell, Granger, what are you good for?"  
  
"If we were making Dramiones and not speaking to Dumbledore, you'd know what I'm good for."  
  
"Ooh," he complimented, smirking as if proud of her. "You really want me in bed, don't you pet?"  
  
"Yes, Malfoy; my life will not be complete unless I have had your pale little arse between my satin sheets," she mumbled distractedly, stopping to write something down. Draco, despite himself, laughed aloud, shaking his head. Hermione paid him no attention as she started speedily walking again, catching up to him.  
  
"Are you ready, Granger?" he asked her, coming to a stop in front of Dumbledore's gargoyle.  
  
"Yeah, sure," Hermione replied, eyes speeding over her notes. Draco, expecting she hadn't heard a word he'd said, tried once more.  
  
"Have you ever eaten a lotus, Granger?" he asked, smirking in anticipation of her answer.  
  
"No, Malfoy. Nor have I heard a siren, slept with a goddess, or blinded a Cyclops. Honey sticks," she answered, completely focused, and turned away from her notes as the gargoyle moved slowly to the side. Draco frowned in disappointment, defeated at his game, and followed her resentfully as she ascended the twisting staircase.  
  
Hermione, calm and collected, tucked her notebook beneath her arm and lifted a hand to knock on the door. She held her chin high as she waited for admittance to Dumbledore's office and was appeased in moments by a short little house elf, who promptly disappeared.  
  
"Miss Granger!" Dumbledore greeted jovially, as if her entrance a pleasant surprise. "And Mr. Malfoy," he continued with the same enthusiasm. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Well, sir," Hermione began, granting herself admission to the room. Dumbledore, who had stood to greet them, sat comfortably in his chair and transfigured two more opposite his desk for the Head Boy and Girl. "There is a matter of great importance which has recently come to my attention, and I believe thoroughly that it demands immediate notice."  
  
"That sounds serious, Miss Granger. Both of you; take a seat," he requested, gesturing to the newly begotten chairs. Hermione nodded her thanks and sat down, while Draco plopped into the seat beside her, looking at ease and very bored. Dumbledore leaned forward onto his desk, hands splayed against the polished wood, face immersed in interest. "What seems to be the trouble?" Draco turned leisurely toward Hermione, fulfilling his promise to catch her if she fell. She looked instantly nervous with all eyes on her and turned her gaze away from Dumbledore, fiddling with the notebook in her lap.  
  
"Well," she started, stalling as her eyes tracked nervously over her notes. "I, that is to say we, we..." Hermione sighed in frustration at her self, bringing her eyes to determinedly meet the professors. Dumbledore lifted a snowy eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "You see, I was... I mean, the students... yes, they... oh, tosh." Draco rolled his eyes dramatically and Dumbledore chuckled, leaning back to lessen the pressure upon his Head Girl.  
  
"She's badgered about the Third Moon," he explained, drawing Dumbledore's attention to his face; he looked surprised. Hermione shot a glare at him, but kept her calm, tinged with nerves.  
  
"Right," she agreed, causing Dumbledore to turn again to her. Hermione opened her mouth to continue, but Draco stole the show, looking tiredly at the ceiling as he spoke.  
  
"She's just found out that everyone believes it," he explained, lowering his head to look condescendingly at her. "And now she's bent on telling them the truth."  
  
"Yes," Hermione offered again, looking warningly to the side. Dumbledore was listening with an uncharacteristic mask of bewilderment shrouding his usually all-knowing face. "I think they should be taught the truth before it gets them in trouble. This..." she winced. "fable, is apt to encourage promiscuous... relations. I propose that something be done." Draco groaned and let his head fall back in the chair, again tracing the rafters with his gaze. He waited for Dumbledore's cheery laugh, assuring Granger that she'd nothing to worry about, and anticipated the offer of a lemon drop. He smiled to himself; he always enjoyed a free lemon drop.  
  
"You are absolutely right, Miss Granger," Dumbledore stated in a final manner and Draco turned to tell his partner off with an 'I told you'. He realized none too late that the Headmaster had AGREED with Hermione and snapped to attention.  
  
"What? What do you mean, she's right? It's just the ruddy Third Moon; it's never gotten anyone into trouble. Why can't we leave them ignorant?"  
  
"Because, Mr. Malfoy, it is irresponsible. It is true, more young witches are having children now than they did in my day, and I assure you, we used the myth back then as well. I had no idea that the tale was still being told; it's unsafe to allow the students to copulate under the impression that they are safe from conception; I will not have such a thing in my school. I thank you, Miss Granger, for bringing this to my attention. How much of the student body believes in this nonsense?"  
  
"Most of it, sir," Hermione supplied, ignoring the gaping Draco who was now much more interested in the conversation. "I know for sure that all of Gryffindor house believes it; I conducted a survey this afternoon. With the background Draco has supplied," she said, indicating her partner with a fleeting wave of her hand. "I've assumed that most of the other houses do as well."  
  
"All of Gryffindor house? Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked, shock evident in his disbelieving voice.  
  
"Yes, sir; even Harry. My hypothesis is that most of the pureblooded and halfblooded students were told the tale by their parents and grew up believing it. Any muggleborn, or in Harry's case, muggleraised students who had knowledge of the truth upon their arrival at Hogwarts were mislead by their peers, and at eleven, a child's mind is apt to conform to majority as opposed to defending its beliefs. It probably didn't help that most eleven year olds have very little knowledge of the... copulative world. They were simply brainwashed into it by their peers."  
  
"If all this is true," Dumbledore asked suspiciously, eyeing the two students in front of him. "How is it that you two retained true knowledge?" Hermione and Draco shared a glance.  
  
"Well," Hermione offered. "I didn't have many female friends growing up, and I wasn't about to talk to Harry and Ron about it," she admitted. "I suppose I just didn't catch wind." Now as red as the crest on her robes, Hermione turned to Draco, expecting him to explain as well; she wanted him to share her embarrassment. He shrugged as if the topic didn't faze him.  
  
"My parents didn't bother to lie," he stated simply. "They prefer fact over blissful naivety." Hermione frowned slightly, her rosy cheeks tinting darker; he didn't seem at all embarrassed, merely apathetic.  
  
"Well," Dumbledore stated, "this most certainly is something." He paused for a moment, stroking his white beard and eyeing thin air curiously. Hermione fidgeted in her seat, pressing chilled fingers to her cheeks in attempt to cool them, while Draco merely watched the situation with slight curiosity; he wondered what the headmaster's verdict would be. Struck with inspiration, Dumbledore stopped his stroking, turning his eyes back to the head girl. "Miss Granger," he asked, receiving her attention, "how much will you voluntarily commit to this cause?" Hermione, who looked slightly suspicious but always ready to charm a professor, folded her hands in her lap and lifted her chin slightly  
  
"Well, I'll do as much as I can, if I have the time and resources."  
  
"And you, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, seeming pleased with Hermione's answer. Draco just shrugged.  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"It's settled then," the headmaster finished cheerily. "Miss Granger, you will host a class on Sunday nights at nineteen hundred hours in the Transfiguration classroom to teach your peers about their escapades. Mr. Malfoy will be your assistant." The jaws of the Head Boy and Girl dropped simultaneously.  
  
"What?" Draco barked, leaping to the edge of his seat.  
  
"Professor," Hermione said almost warningly. "We're only seventh year students; no where near qualified enough to teach a class!"  
  
"Unfortunately, Miss Granger," he explained. "There is no one on staff available for such a last minute assignment. You will only teach the seventh years; next year we will hire a trained instructor." Hermione turned nervously to Draco, who was staring daggers and obviously blamed her.  
  
"Headmaster," she said, trying to compromise. "I really wouldn't feel comfortable..."  
  
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted. "When you and Mr. Malfoy accepted the positions of Head Boy and Girl, you agreed to follow the quota of the position. It states clearly in the hand book that it is the job of the Head Boy and Girl to cater to the best intentions of the students; I do believe this falls under that category. If you refuse to take this position, you will be putting your fellow students in danger, and I would be forced to consider revoking your badge." Hermione gasped. "Do you understand, Miss Granger?" She nodded obediently, now completely convinced of her mission. "Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"It doesn't seem I have a choice," Draco complained, hiding his face with his hands and mumbling into his wrists. Dumbledore grinned.  
  
"Good, good. I shall owl the students tomorrow morning and your first class will take place next week. I suggest you use the provided time to create a lesson plan. Off you go, then."  
  
Lethargically, Hermione and Draco rose from their seats and started toward the door, Draco stalking while she pattered behind. As the door closed behind them, Hermione braced herself for his tantrum, but it never came.  
  
"Looks like you were right after all, Granger. My mistake," he noted dully, adjusting his tie as if he were to be meeting someone important. "I suggest you go say goodnight and get to bed early; we've planning to do in the morning." Without another word, Draco clenched his jaw and started in the direction of their common room, leaving Hermione to stare after him.  
  
Had he just apologized?  
  
-x- -x- -x-  
  
A/N: Damn! I'm on a roll! I probably won't be updating until next week when; spring break. I'm participating in the D/Hr Valentine's Day Fic Exchange, so I'll be working on that next. My request was very general and I want to make it super original, to blow their minds :oD. I hope my writer is just as excited as I am :oD 


	3. Machiavelli Migraines

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

"Looks like you were right after all, Granger. My mistake," he noted dully, adjusting his tie as if he were to be meeting someone important. "I suggest you go say goodnight and get to bed early; we've planning to do in the morning." Without another word, Draco clenched his jaw and started in the direction of their common room, leaving Hermione to stare after him.

Had he just apologized?

-----------------------------------

Chapter Three: Machiavelli Migraines

When Draco rose in the morning, he groaned in remembrance that he would be forced to spend his last Sunday of freedom with Granger and debated going back to bed, but her paper rustling, chanting, and frustrated cursing from the common room sparked his curiosity. He slipped into more modest clothing and made his way into a hellfire issuing from the sofa where Hermione, looking as if she hadn't bothered to sleep at all the night before, was sitting cross legged, surrounded by texts and tightly scripted notes, biting her lips as her wand refused to cooperate. She didn't notice him immediately, and he stayed quiet, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her struggle to properly pronounce a spell.

After taking a breath to compose herself, Hermione lifted her wand into the air, chin high and looking confident, and carefully enunciated each syllable. A pair of naked lovers leaked like smoke from her wand tip, forming into the air in front of her. Within seconds, they were blatantly copulating in the middle of the common room, with no regard to their audience. Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she watched them silently moan and explore their partners. Draco, too, was shocked; his eyebrows buried themselves in his hair and he glanced away before smirking.

"Did I come at a bad time, Granger?" he asked, taking a step into the common room, and Hermione emitted a high pitched screech, waving her arms to clear the smoky paramours. Draco chuckled to himself. "No pun intended, of course." When her task was completed, Hermione turned toward her dorm-mate, blushing to the tips of her ears.

"How long have you been standing there?" she demanded, unable to look at him. Draco laughed again, coming toward her and taking a short cut over the couch before sitting down. Hermione stared at the notes in her lap, mortified and easeless. "Malfoy, I asked you a question," she reminded boldly, and he grinned.

"Just a minute or so. Good show, Granger; would you like to be left alone with... yourself?" he asked, smirking wildly, and she glowed red.

"Shut your gob, Malfoy. I wasn't... in the situation that you're implying; I was _trying_ to figure out how to work these diagram charms, but it seems I have the magical capabilities of a seafaring cow," she said, staring at her wand as if it had betrayed her. Draco, smirking, opened his mouth to comment, but Hermione snapped her head up and cut him off. "And don't you dare say it's because I'm a mudblood, because it isn't... I just..." She looked back down. "I don't _know_ why. I just... _can't_."

"Well, Granger, if you'd let me speak, maybe I could help you," Draco suggested hotly, as if irked by her interruption, but memories of recent events would not allow him to do anything but smirk at her discomfort. Hermione looked up sadly, waiting for him to continue. "It's because you're a girl, and not just that, an innocent little pristine prude of a girl." Hermione's eyes narrowed. _Imagine_, she thought. _I really thought he was going to help me_.

"What would you know about it?" she asked sharply, crossing her arms and looking away. The red had recently drained from her cheeks, but it colored them slightly at his implication.

"It's obvious, Granger, and common sense at that. I'm not trying to insult you," he admitted and she looked up, lifting an eyebrow. He smirked. "I know; don't get used to it. This time, really, it's just because you're so embarrassed. All magic stems from confidence, thus why you are always so good at everything. You believe you can do it, so you can. You put yourself in a narcissistic mindset and you could Avada someone, if you wanted; that, Granger, is why you're such a good witch," he said, gesticulating with a pointed finger. "Right now, you're embarrassed, as any inexperience girl would be; you don't _think_ you can do the spells, you might not even _want _to do the spells, and so you _can't_ do them. If you want this right, all you have to do is _try_."

"What?" Hermione asked, softly and without conviction; she was confused. Draco had insulted and complimented her all at one time; she wasn't sure if she should kick him or kiss him. "You think I'm not _trying_? Draco, I've been out here practically since _dawn_ working on this spell." Draco waved her comments away.

"I _know_ you're not trying, Granger," he said, reaching behind him to pull his wand from his belt loop. "See? _Prodeo Corpus Australis_." Immediately from his wand, two smoky conformations emerged. The figures started at the abdomen and stopped mid-thigh, and were cut through the middle to display all within. Hermione blushed at them and looked away, but Draco smirked at her. "If I can do it, you surely can," he said, deciding not to comment on her rouge.

"If you can do it, I don't have to," Hermione countered, shuffling through her freshly written pile of notes. "You'll be there, after all. Actually, I'm glad you're awake. This will be much easier once you agree with everything I say. Now, I've been working for a while; this is what I have so far..." she said, changing the subject slightly, and passing her script into his hands. Draco set his wand on the back of the couch, and the diagrams disappeared the moment it left his contact. Lifting an eyebrow, he looked down at the papers, and back up at her.

"What's all this, then?"

"Their notes; I've still to copy them, but ultimately that's it. I've left spaces, see? To keep them paying attention... and I wrote up the first three unit tests. We don't have a real text book, but I'm sure there's something in the library we can use as a substitute. What do you think?" Hermione explained, smiling brightly and proud of her work. Draco gaped at the paper.

"I think you're bloody bonkers, Granger. Do you _really_ think their going to take any of this seriously? We're not real teachers, they've no O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s... _no one_ is going to listen to us. I wanted to tell Dumbledore that yesterday, but he went and threatened my badge, and I shut my trap. Honestly, no matter what we do, it's going to be a room full of chaos; we'll probably get cursed at some point. Not to mention the topic of conversation we have to present. Come on, Granger, honestly; you know your friends. What are they going to do when you bring all this up?" Draco countered logically, waving the note packet in the air. Hermione frowned deeply; she'd worked hard on those notes.

"They're going to laugh," she deadpanned, dropping her shoulders. Draco frowned in unison, feeling almost guilty at losing for her the radiance of accomplishment.

"Right," he said tonelessly, dropping the papers back into his lap. Hermione waited a moment, thinking, and shrugged.

"We'll just have to think of a way to _make_ them listen to us," she said, as if it was obvious, and Draco lifted an eyebrow in curiosity.

"How?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, shrugging again. "Brainstorm," she decided finally, standing from the couch. "I am going to breakfast; come with me if you wish. When we get back, we can compare." As Hermione skipped toward the door, Draco smirked after her and shook his head; nothing seemed to ever really get that girl down. One could piss her off, but dishearten her? Impossible.

"Granger," he called after and Hermione whirled in a flurry of amber curls and pleated skirts. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." She frowned slightly, looking confused.

"Why?"

"Well," Draco reminded, settling into the couch and starting to read over her notes. "Dumbledore's going to tell the school at breakfast. Do you want to be there for that?" Hermione pouted, shaking her head, and started slowly back to the couch.

"But I'm hungry," she complained, placing a hand over her abdomen. "I didn't sleep through it like _some_ people." Draco smirked.

"Well, then, have a tea cake and start helping me. Honestly, you really are useless," he grumbled, swinging his legs onto the couch and stretching out with her notes as if they were his favorite piece of light literature.

"Me? Useless? I've been up for hours! What've you done? Abso-bloody-nothing, that's what!" Hermione steamed, losing her carefree ambiance quickly. She made to flop down on Draco's feet, but he moved them just in time and she bounced on the cushion instead.

"Mood swings really are your bag, aren't they?" he asked playfully, and she glared. "I'm just kidding. Loosen up; how am I supposed to work with you if you've always a stick up your arse?"

"I am very much cognizant of your attempt at humor. I just didn't think it was very funny. I was proud of that, and then you tell me I'm useless and a laughing stock. No, not very funny at all."

"Again, Granger," he said, "To extract, turn a quarter anticlockwise and pull."

"Ugh," Hermione groaned, tossing a throw pillow at his head, effectively beaning him and making more room for herself on the sofa. "You are such a _guy_. I'd like to turn you a quarter anticlockwise."

"Always the kinky one, aren't you?" he asked impishly and she ignored him. "You've spelt epididymis wrong. It'd d-y-m, not d-i-m." Hermione went immediately red.

"Well, fix it then," she mumbled, passing him her feather quill. Acting as if nothing had occurred, Draco did as requested and effectively made her mistake seem nonexistent. "Not that it matters anyway; we won't be needing them."

"Oh, I don't know," Draco countered archly. "They really are a necessity when creating Dramiones." Hermione punched him in the calf.

"I _meant_ my _notes_," she corrected edgily, setting her jaw. Draco nodded.

"I'm aware. I couldn't help it; you set yourself up for that one," he leveled and she crossed her arms. "Anyway, I think you're on to something. If we can think up an idea to get them to listen to us, torture by way of note taking will do them good. Any suggestions? Well, I have one." Hermione had no more opened her mouth before he interrupted her. She closed it quickly, with an irritated _hmph_. "Ladies first, of course," Draco countered, hiding his playful smirk behind his current reading selection. Hermione's pursed lips relaxed and she looked surprised, casting a glance at his hidden face.

"Oh," she said softly, giving a nod. "All right. We could remind them that they can't graduate without a passing grade." Draco's eyebrows narrowed and he looked up over his papers.

"They can't?" he asked and Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know. White lie wouldn't hurt," she said softly, almost embarrassed, and Draco gave half a smile.

"Now you're playing dirty, Granger. I bet they'd believe it too. Though, half of them aren't going to graduate _anyway_, so it wouldn't be much of an intimidation," he cited and she bit her lip.

"Well, we could pose threat over them. First we'll promise a low number of tests and homework based on grades and conduct, then constantly recall the fact that their work reflects their decisions."

"In theory, that would work," Draco granted, rubbing a thumb along his chin. "But we're in reality, not theory. All that will do is irk the good ones. If you threaten someone who doesn't do homework with _more_ homework... that's just more they aren't going to do. And then everyone will hate _you_, because they find the situation unfair." Hermione sighed.

"Must you contradict everything I pose?"

"I'm playing devil's advocate, that's what I'm _supposed_ to do. We're bettering our practice here, Granger; open up," he said, eyes still scanning his documents. Hermione growled and stole them from his hands, throwing them on the table.

"Would you _stop that_? How can you read my notes, listen to me, and think of a logical way to make me an idiot all at the same time?"

"All about you, isn't it?" he teased, and she scoffed. "It's called multitasking; doesn't take a mastermind. If it bothers you so much, I'll stop; no need to lose your stick up there."

"Would you stop with the stick? You're so _irritating_. Let's stop pretending to have a conversation and actually _work_, so we can get this _over with_."

"All right, all right," Draco agreed, holding up his hands in surrender. He sat up against the armrest and overenthusiastically placed all of his attention on her. "Next suggestion, then." Hermione struggled for a moment to think of something, then exploded in a sigh of frustration.

"Why don't _you_ share _your_ brilliant idea? As of yet you've done no work at all but make me _royally_ annoyed with you."

"All in a day's..." Draco began, but her glare of daggers stopped him and he laughed. "Okay, I'm sorry, Granger, all right? I just love the way you look when you're all flustered like that." Hermione's blanched, but Draco didn't seem to notice; he laced his fingers and found his place on the train of thought. "Moving on... I once read a wonderful book by a Monsieur Niccolò Machiavelli, in which it was stated that '_For my part I consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary to beat and ill-use her; and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coldly. She is, therefore, always, woman-like, a lover of young men, because they are less cautious, more violent, and with more audacity command her._'" Hermione gaped at him.

"You memorized that?" she asked and Draco nodded.

"It was my favorite passage. I laughed right aloud and scared my mother half to death; it's like a sacrilege to make any noise whatsoever during what I like to consider 'social hour' at my home. It's when we bond; just after tea, I read, mother knits, and father sits doing absolutely nothing. Perhaps he meditates. I'd never the gall to ask."

"As interesting as this all is... you realize that both your 'social hour' and the passage you've recited to me, to which I might have taken offense if I hadn't read _The Prince_ and likewise had not known what you were talking about, are completely irrelevant to the conversation at hand?"

"Yes, but the novel is not. I suggest we take a leaf. Perhaps '_We have not seen great things done in our time except by those who have been considered mean; the rest have failed' _is more suited to your fancy?" he asked sarcastically, but Hermione smirked at him.

"At least that makes sense; and poses a rather interesting point. We make them fear us? I foresee a brightened future... and I know just the spell."

-x- -x- -x-

Sunday night happened upon Draco and Hermione faster than either had imagined. Having something to instill such anxiety made the days meld into nights and the week bleed into the weekend. There was a Hogsmeade visit planned and most seventh years attended, sulking over their loss of weekend due to their newly scheduled class; it meant less time for last minute homework and snogging. No one was pleased.

Hermione had stated midweek that she planned to use her empty Saturday to do as much homework as possible, finishing things that were due as late as the following Friday, as to leave time slots open for future planning of her new extracurricular. Draco was not quite so ambitious, and did little more than was necessary, but spent the entire afternoon on the common room floor with Hermione, often pretending to be working or reading things not noted in the curriculum. There was sparse conversation, the occasional comparing of notes and answers, and volunteered kitchen runs for breakfast, lunch, and tea, but absolutely no talk of the following night.

Hermione, herself, did not want to jinx their plans. She had spent more time with Malfoy that week then she expected even his mother would wish to, going over material that incessantly brought a blush to her cheeks, and she wasn't willing to spoil it now. Draco often noted her sensitivity and innocence with mirth and Hermione had given up on defending herself; she was an honest and obvious virgin and Draco was only speaking the truth when pointing out such things. Secretly, she hoped her cold shoulder to his comments would stop them, but each time he uttered an unclean word, she would emit a rose colored glow from her cheeks, and he would continue to prod her.

The Sunday morning sun rose hours before any Hogwarts student. Even Hermione allowed herself a few extra hours of rest, feeling well prepared and almost excited about the upcoming event. When she had primped every aspect of her appearance and felt fresh for the big day, Hermione flounced into the common room and embraced the welcoming atmosphere. It was picturesque; the sunlight streamed through the windows and played rainbows on the burgundy carpet, creating a mystic mood and aura.

As Hermione danced in the little prism rainbows, Draco entered through the portrait, carrying with him a plate of bangers and mash. Hermione danced past him, bidding him good morning, and waltzed herself to the portrait hole. Draco watched her with an incredulous eye.

"What happened to _you_, Granger? Did you get some last night?" he asked, almost honestly, and Hermione displayed her tongue for him to see.

"Can't I just be happy without you twisting it into something foul?" she asked him, scrunching her nose. Draco shrugged, standing still in his place. Annoyed at his lack of response, Hermione shook her head and twirled toward the door, again attempting to leave the confines of her dormitory.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, brow creased as he took a step forward. Hermione turned back in mere surprise; he sounded almost as if he were concerned.

"Malfoy, what's wrong with you?" she asked, lifting a brow at him, and Draco took a step back, splaying his empty palm as means of defending himself.

"Sorry, sorry," he chanted, moving toward the couch. "Just I wouldn't go to breakfast if I were you. No one liked me before and they all hounded me with questions. You'll be torn to bits." Hermione pursed her lips and lifted her chin.

"You don't scare me, Malfoy. Nothing can get me down today; I'm making a point of it. See you when I see you," she noted, waving fleetingly before disappearing through the portal. Draco made himself comfortable with his breakfast, sighing into the cushions.

"You'll be back," he predicted. "And you'll wish you'd listened."

-x-

Hermione hadn't made it but to the end of the hall before she was bombarded with a tidal wave of seventh years. It seemed they had gotten very little out of Draco when he had passed through, and were not about to take no for an answer twice. They sprang on her, leaping around the corner and stalking as one being down the hall, forcing Hermione back toward her portrait. They continued, speaking a plethora of questions and threats jumbled and indistinguishable from one another, and quickly enclosed Hermione against her painting. She had long lost her carefree attitude, and was pressed flush to the wall, paranoid and with good reason.

Harry and Ron pushed themselves to the front of the crowd and Hermione grinned as she spotted them, hoping to be saved.

"Hermione!" Harry called, shoving a few Ravenclaw to his side.

"Harry!" Hermione returned, her voice lost in the sea of chatter. She tried to fend off as many as she could, answering any questions she could hear over others and anticipating Harry and Ron's arrival. They squeezed in to the small bit of personal space surrounding her, looking disheveled and winded, and shielding her from the crowd. Hermione almost wanted to hug them.

"Hermione," Ron said in relief, taking her hand. "Come on, you've got to tell us _everything_. I can't _take_ it anymore."

"What?" she asked impatiently, fighting as he pulled her into the crowd.

"Hermione? Hermione! Hermione!" She heard from all sides, feeling dozens of hands jerking her between them. Even had she wanted to go with Ron, it would have been impossible; she was ripped from his grasp and both he and Harry were thrown out of the mob that was closing in on their friend. Hermione felt almost as if she were trying to breathe under water.

"Oi! Everyone! _Belt up_!" she finally screamed, standing still in the center of the chaos. Hermione hadn't expected it to work, but a hush rippled over the crowd, and in seconds the hall was speechless and immobile. "All right," she continued slowly. "Every one of you, just take a good three steps _away_ from me..." They did. "There," she said, exhaling. "Now, just give me a moment and I'll tell you _everything_. All right?" The seventh years looked at one another, nodding in unison and turning back to their moderator. "Everyone take a seat, there you are." Once the students were seated and Hermione had composed herself, she began her questionnaire. "Right, now..." she started, scanning the room for someone to call on first. Just as Hannah Abbot was _sure_ she would be chosen, Hermione spun and hurtled her way over the bodies, disappearing into her common room before any could register to go after her.

Hermione stood behind the portrait door, breathing with difficulty and looking up at the wooden frame. As if crossing paths with the Hogwarts Express, a roar slammed into the canvas with such force that Hermione fell backward onto the carpet, feet away from the wall of pounding fists and raging tones. She lifted herself onto her elbows in alarm, but allowed herself to relax onto the flooring when all was determined safe. She heard a warm chuckle, separate from the curtain of noise blanketing her only exit, and looked up to see Malfoy peering down at her with a grin pasted to his face, looking pleased with himself.

"All right, Granger?" he asked her honestly, though she knew his true intent. Hermione glared at him, and Draco pretended to be surprised. "What's this then? And here _I_ am, thinking that _nothing_ would get you down today? That's down if I ever saw it, what you are right now." Hermione sighed and pulled herself from the floor.

"Were you _born_ to point out my flaws, Malfoy?"

"I'd like to imagine so. I have discovered something, Granger; I am your compliment," Draco boasted, smirking in triumph, but Hermione lifted an eyebrow as she brushed off her skirts.

"My what? Did you say _condiment_? Blimey, now you've got my mind on food again," Hermione complained, running fingers through her disheveled hair. "Why is it me who must always skip meals?"

"No, Granger, I said _compliment_... and as for breakfast, I brought you some. Had you not been so _cheery_ and keen on suicide, I might have told you earlier," he told her irately, gesturing to the table near the couch. Hermione, brows crossed, glanced over her shoulder. A full plate of food sat next to Draco's quarter eaten one, waiting to be introduced to her churning stomach. Hermione turned slowly back to Draco, who was looking irritated, and lifted an eyebrow.

"But..."

"I made two trips; the first time I got down all right... and the caught me off guard on the stairwell. It was only a few, but I saw the timid ones in the shadows, waiting. You plan to eat it, don't you? I risked my neck for that; got you a clean fork and everything," he told her, walking past her to retake his seat on the couch. Hermione nodded softly, following in his footsteps and taking her own breakfast to rest on her lap. She thanked him awkwardly, and Draco mumbled a reply over a mouthful of sausage, viewing her from the corner of his eye. There was silence until the banging at the door calmed merely to desperate moans, and Hermione began to think back on the events. It had happened all so fast; they'd accosted her out of nowhere. She could have sworn she'd been wearing a tie.

"What's this about a compliment?" Hermione asked suddenly, disturbing the silence as she remembered what he had said, and Draco inhaled, nodding as he finished a bite of his meal.

"Right," he recalled, running the pad of his thumb over his lips and abandoning half his breakfast on the table. "I was thinking and that was my conclusion."

"I'm not sure I understand," Hermione admitted, paying optimal attention; partially in thanks for his generous donation to her square meal fund and also because his enthusiasm intrigued her.

"We are completely and utterly opposite," Draco stated with conviction. "I am the salt to your pepper, and you are the sharp to my dull." Hermione lifted an eyebrow, and he continued. "The shell to my yolk; the grass to my stars; the chaos to my silence; the apples to my oranges... the ocean to my desert," he listed. "Don't you see? It's so _obvious_. It's the counterpart theory; _you_ are my counterpart." Hermione chewed slowly, digesting his words as well as her sausage, and eyeing Draco as if he had gone completely insane. He waited impatiently for her response, nodding his head in encouragement. "Well?"

"You know, Draco..." she began, sounding enlightened, and he grinned, assuming she would agree. "You _really_ sound as if you're proclaiming undying love to me just now." Draco's face fell and he sighed, crossing his arms and leaning backward.

"Buggar," he mumbled. "I should've known you wouldn't take me seriously." Hermione smirked at his reaction and decided a little salt to rub in his peppered wound wouldn't hurt.

"Well, of course I wouldn't. I'm your opposite; I have to disagree with you, it's in the job description," she teased and Draco whirled toward her, looking lividly frustrated.

"No, you wouldn't; that's the beauty of it; it's so complex... so elaborate and intricate... oh hell, forget it," he breathed, exasperated. "I _wish_ you'd merely disagreed; at least then I'd have had a debate. Your disregard is just pissing me off." As Draco made to storm to his room, Hermione laughed aloud, holding his arm to keep him seated.

"Would you tone it down a bit? I don't know why you're so worked up," she said, smiling as she drew her attention back to her breakfast. "What's wrong, Malfoy? You've been acting stranger than usual lately; this week in particular. I can recall numerous compliments projected in my direction, and if that isn't enough evidence, you brought me breakfast and proclaimed, in a very romantic and philosophical way, that we are _soul-mates_. An outsider might think you _fancy_ me." Draco didn't miss a beat.

"I told you Granger," he reminded. "I _would_ if you weren't a Gryffindor." Leaving Hermione open mouthed and staring, Draco took to his room to finish what he had started and return to his comfortably unmade bed. Hermione sat slack-jawed in the common room for many minutes more, running the conversation over in her head. Draco was _definitely _acting strangely. On any given day, she'd have expected him to storm out of the room on such a comment as she had offered, but Draco had taken it like truth and _agreed_. He had implied that the only thing standing between them was her _friends_.

Was he _serious_?

Bastard.

-----------------------------------

A/N: I don't know if anyone else noticed... but reviewing is like, broken on You _can't_ review. If you do, no one will see it; it won't be emailed and it won't show up in the log. I don't know why. It's been like this for days; the mods have to have noticed by now. It's just a question of how long it'll take them to fix it. :oD (this is as of 3/2/04. If it's like April, don't listen to what I've said :oD ) Email me if you want; we can _chat_ or something. :oD .


	4. Fiber Therapy

Once upon a time during SEX:

"...You brought me breakfast and proclaimed, in a very romantic and philosophical way, that we are _soul-mates_. An outsider might think you _fancy_ me." Draco didn't miss a beat.

"I told you Granger," he reminded. "I _would_ if you weren't a Gryffindor." Leaving Hermione open mouthed and staring, Draco took to his room to finish what he had started and return to his comfortably unmade bed. Hermione sat slack-jawed in the common room for many minutes more, running the conversation over in her mind. Draco was _definitely _acting strangely. On any given day, she'd have expected him to storm out of the room on such a comment as she had offered, but Draco had taken it like truth and _agreed_. He had implied that the only thing standing between them was her _friends_.

Was he _serious_?

Bastard.

-----------------------------------

Chapter Four: Fiber Therapy

"Granger, are you _mad_ at me?" Draco asked as he trialed her quick paced steps down the hallway, and Hermione kept her books close to her chest and her nose stuck straight in the air.

"Whatever gave you that idea, Malfoy?" she asked him, turning around a corner. Draco followed.

"Well, there is the fact that you've _ignored_ me practically all day, refused to acknowledge my presence when I tried to get you to come out of your room to work on our lesson plans, _and_ this is the first sentence I've squeezed out of you in the ten minute, one sided conversation I've been having since we left the common room. Somehow, I get the feeling something's cocked. I want to know what."

"Forget it, Malfoy, just forget it. I don't want to talk about it. Least of all to you," she grumbled, lengthening her steps. Draco sighed and quickened his pace as well.

"Oh, woman stuff, eh? Can't rightly say I can help you there."

"You can't help me anywhere," she corrected, and Draco mocked hurt, placing a hand over his chest.

"Aw, that's cold. I don't believe you're giving me the benefit of the doubt," he said, looking for a rise, but Hermione gave an unenthusiastic 'ha'.

"I don't have any doubt. Come on, Malfoy, stop badgering me. I just want to go in there, yell at them, and go back to the dorm, where I hope to find a quiet place to die for a while," Hermione stated, waving her hand at him to assure she wanted nothing more to do with whatever he had to say, but Draco was not one to stop a tangent just because it was requested.

"You see, Granger, I don't like your attitude. And furthermore, I have something to say of much interest to you, if only you would allow me to speak," he stated, eyes narrowing slightly. Hermione stopped in front of the transfiguration classroom and spun to glare heatedly at him.

"_What_?" she spat and Draco held up his hands in defense.

"Hell, Granger. That _time of the month_ rot really hits you all at once, doesn't it? I'd ask what's stuck up your arse, but I've a feeling I already know. Trust me, that's _not_ the way to get your daily dose of fiber," he said smartly, an award winning smirk gracing the pink flesh of his lips. Hermione was pushed over the edge; with a frustrated growl, she arched her arm to slap that pretty little smirk from his aristocratic face with such force she hoped he'd fall down. Draco saw her advance and frowned, losing for Hermione the motive to release her weapon. She hesitated, and it was obvious that Draco knew exactly what was about to happen, but he did nothing to impede her release. He did not duck, nor flinch, nor attempt to catch her wrist; Draco merely waited, anxiously, as if he too believed he deserved it.

She couldn't do it. Not with him frowning in that disappointed manner and losing all the smugness she longed to beat out of him. Instead, she let her hand grow limp and fall to her side, shaking her head and mumbling to herself as she spun to open the classroom door, slamming it behind her and gaining the attention of all those students chattering wildly in their seats. She stalked to the front of the room in a Snape-like manner and dropped her bag on the floor, plopping into the rolling seat behind McGonagall's desk. With a sigh, she began role call, ignoring Draco as he snuck in through the door and closed it quietly behind himself.

The room was abnormally full, for all of the seventh year students were crammed into it and not just two houses, as per the case in transfiguration. For the first few names, the students were stunned into silence by Hermione's sudden entrance, but they grew talkative and rowdy soon afterward. Draco ignored them and made his way to the front of the room, careful not to disturb Hermione in any way. She was still perpetually livid; he could tell- it was the look he thought suited her face so flatteringly.

"Aly Staar?" Hermione called, tone never ceasing, and even if the girl had responded, the roar of the other students smothered her voice. "Aly Staar?" Hermione called again, this time looking up from her roll of names, eyes piercing the crowd. Again, she could hear nothing. "_Aly Staar_!" she called a third and final time, yelling tersely over the other students, and scaring them once again into silence.

"I'm here! I'm here! Please don't hurt me!" called a skinny blonde girl in the corner. She looked quite scared and was hiding behind fellow Ravenclaw Terry Boot; Hermione assumed the girl was Aly. She calmly marked a check next to the name and stood from her chair, sending a blazing glare across the room.

"Listen to me, you," she demanded, pointing an accusing finger at no one in particular. "I am _not_ having a good day, I do _not_ want joke around with you, and I most _certainly_ do not want to be teaching this class. Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter, and therefore, I make it clear to the lot of you now, that _I will not tolerate_ any misbehaving, out of turn speaking, or _stupid_ questions this evening. Is that understood?" For a moment, the whole room was silent, afraid to speak a word. Even the Slytherin, who contained themselves in the corner, were wide eyed and attentive. Hermione, somewhat spent from her lecture, fell down in her seat again, resuming her journey down the list.

"Blimey, Hermione," came Harry's voice from the front row, where he had just gotten over the shock of her harangue. Hermione snapped her head toward him, eyes fiery. "Are you all right?"

"Did you not hear what I just said, Harry? I don't see why you should be exempt," she reminded coarsely, and Harry gulped, sharing a nervous look with Ron. "First warning," Hermione finished, somewhat softer. "Now... Dean Thomas?"

"Here!"

She concluded role call without another glitch; the room silent save the anxious 'here's from students afraid to swallow for fear of too long a hesitation in their answer. Once the call was completely finished, she sighed and stood again, casting a glare across the room.

"Now," Hermione stated, and there was silence as every head turned toward her. "Everyone, I want you to take out a sheet of parchment and write down, in your own words, everything you know about the human reproductive system, and any forms of contraception, spells, or theories you may have heard. _This includes everything to do with the Third Moon_. I am not about to tell you if the Third Moon Theory is accurate or not, as of right now, and I want you to be truthful in your explanation. If you, up until the creation of this class caused doubt, believed in the Third Moon, take no shame in writing it down," Hermione directed, keeping eye contact with key members of the crowd. "Does everyone understand the assignment?" she bellowed abnormally loudly, causing those in the room to jump. Choruses of 'Yes, Ma'am' rippled through the crowd, and Hermione gave a concise nod. "Good. Get to work." Simultaneously, the forty some odd seventh years moved to take out parchment and quills, or whisper to neighbors for a loan. Hermione sat down again in her chair and sighed, running through the list of names to find those who were not present.

After a moment of silent scribbling from the students, Draco made his presence known. He was not about to stop Hermione in the middle of her lecture and tell her to _calm down_, so it was only then did he feel his interruption was warranted.

"Granger," he said softly as he knelt beside her chair, almost as if he were afraid of her reaction. Hermione turned to him, face passive and eyebrows slightly lifted. "I know you're mad at me, but you didn't have to take it out on them. Look at them, they're shaking; you may have caused serious emotional damage. Any suicides are on _your_ head." To Draco's surprise, Hermione laughed. Her face grew into a smile halfway through his speech, and by the end she was right cheery. She shook her head.

"You're such a hypocrite. First you say you _want_ me to scare them, and then you practically ask me to apologize. What is it you want, exactly?" she asked calmly, face still twisted in a smile. Draco looked honestly confused and Hermione sighed, slouching in her chair. "I'll admit I was mad at you and I used it to our advantage. I wasn't _that_ angry, but I told myself I was and got a bit worked up. Then, I used it to radiate my presence just now, and look how proper it worked. They're like angels," she said, smiling out at the nervous crowd. Draco gave a dry laugh.

"Hell, Hermione," he said, massaging his temples. "Could you warn me next time you're going to do that? _I_ was bloody scared of you." A little frown marked her lips and Hermione crossed her arms.

"I was going to, but I _was_ mad at you. Still am for that matter. Bastard," she mumbled, again giving him a somewhat cold shoulder. Annoyed with his squatting, Draco transfigured his shoe into a chair (as he dared not disturb anything that might be important to McGonagall) and sat down beside her.

"Well," he said softly as he settled. "Might I ask _what _I did to piss you off?" A slight blush lit her cheeks and Hermione shook her head, turning her chair more than slightly away.

"No," she stated sharply, neglecting to elaborate. He placed a hand on her forearm and spun her toward him, plastering a charming look on his countenance.

"Well," he teased. "If you don't tell me _what_ I did, how do I know what to apologize for?" Hermione's eyebrow strayed high.

"Why would _you_ want to apologize?" she asked honestly, eyeing him warily and recounting their entire lifetime in her head to look for any one instance in which he might have admitted defeat. She found none... except the day that they had met with Dumbledore. Suddenly, it clicked. "Oh, right... this new, _balmy_ Draco would apologize. Hell, he'd probably write charming poetry and mail it to me on the foot of a dove. Seriously, Malfoy, what the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

"Hey," he said, mocking hurt. "That wasn't at all nice."

"Yes, I agree. I apologize," she granted, giving a tiny nod, and stared at him expectantly. When Draco did nothing to return her gesture, Hermione again lifted an eyebrow. "Well," she said. "Your turn." Draco shook his head.

"You still haven't told me what I did," he said. "I'm not about to say that I'm sorry for breathing, or something else as preposterous." Hermione blushed again, and tried to turn away, but Draco held a firm grip to her arm. "Tell me," he demanded persistently. Hermione sighed and crossed her arms.

"Well," she said, not knowing quite how to start. "You said that the only reason you wouldn't want a relationship with me is because I'm in Gryffindor; because of my _friends_. Now, that is not to say that _I_ want a relationship or ever particularly _care_ that you don't think highly of me... it is the principle of the matter. I am not about to take kindly to someone who judges me by my acquaintances, especially when I wouldn't have choice in the matter anyway. It isn't my fault. I didn't ask for any of it." She ended her explanation with a frustrated sigh, standing from her chair. Immediately, all eyes were set on her. "Back to work," she demanded of the class, and forty heads bowed over tightly packed parchment. "Just forget it," Hermione said then to Draco, who was still seated. "I have to go check on the whereabouts of the three students missing. For their sake, I hope they're in the sanitarium." She started away quickly, though Draco attempted to stop her.

"Hermione, wait," he said, reaching for her arm, but she anticipated him and pulled away.

"Watch the class. I'll be back within a quarter hour," Hermione said and disappeared from the room, closing the wooden slab behind her. The class watched her go, taking a break from their scribbling.

"I don't believe she said to stop working," Draco reminded them, imitating Hermione's tone, and to great success, as the little puppets immediately resumed their task.

-x- -x- -x-

Hermione snuck back into the classroom quietly, amongst the students who still sat writing, though now with much less fervor. Draco was amusing himself in the front of the room, leaning back in his chair and attempting to balance his wand on the bridge of his nose. On a normal day, he'd have been jeered by the Gryffindor, but today none were watching.

With a peek at the wall mounted clock, it was agonizingly obvious to all in the room that the class had only been in session for twenty minutes. The students, sure they were in store for at least another hour, went about their grueling task with drooping lids and guttural groans.

"Hey," Hermione whispered as not to disturb the few people still conscious enough to acknowledge her speech. Draco jumped when she touched his arm, setting his chair again on all fours and letting his wand drop into his outstretched hands. "How were they?"

"You've only been gone ten minutes," Draco reminded, good natured though he looked somewhat troubled. "I'd imagine they're still in shock." Hermione laughed softly and cast a soft look about the room. From the look of things, even the slowest of students had completed half a scroll.

"All right, everyone," she called out to them, though in a much more amiable manner than her previous lecture. Her new mood seemed to do little to ease the students; it more likely made them wary. "I think that's enough for this lesson. Please remember to put your name at the top of your scroll, and to put it up here on the desk before you leave. You will be graded on effort, not accuracy, and if you do not hand in the assignment, you will not receive credit. Do expect our next lesson to be a bit longer; today was just a chance to get the feel of the atmosphere, and for us, as your teachers, to analyze exactly what needs to be focused upon in our curriculum. Have a good evening, and do enjoy the rest of your weekend. I might suggest a bit of studying in select cases. I'll see you all next week, if not at some point in between." Her speech finished, Hermione sat back down in her chair, spinning around once in a carefree manner as the students began to file toward the desk and deposit their parchment rolls on the growing pile.

"Are you absolutely _sure_ there's no feminine-like mood swings affecting you, Granger? You're all happy and carefree again, like this morning. I'd like to ask you to remember how that turned out. 'Nothing to get you down' my arse," Draco voiced and Hermione laughed softly, shaking her head.

"Again, Malfoy, you try to dishearten me. Give up on it, won't you? I've told you how I made myself angry and why I took it out on the class. Now that that's over and done with, I can be happy if I want to. And I might as well have a bit of fun now; Merlin knows I won't be having any when I begin to read these essays and deduce exactly how scarred these fragile minds are in their naivety."

Harry, who was just walking past the desk to deposit his roll of parchment on the slowly growing pile, caught the tail end of their conversation and he didn't like it. Hermione had been looking at him as she mentioned the falsely influenced children and it made Harry uncomfortable, as if she was specifically singling him out as one of those warped. She spoke in a very condescending manner, and it was unlike her to be so patronizing. It was common knowledge that Hermione was three times as intelligent as both he and Ron on a good day, but she had never made it seem so. She had always treated them like equals; her large brain had never posed a problem in their friendship. Now, it seemed all that had changed. She was sitting with _Malfoy_, inviting him to be privy to a conversation that deemed Harry underdeveloped, and it made him feel small and surprisingly left out.

"Harry, go on, you're holding up the line. I'll see you tomorrow," Hermione said softly, shooing him away. Harry was one presence she did not want to be within vicinity of that evening; the essays would provide enough frustration and discontent. It had been a long and grueling day, and at this point, a warm bath and upturned duvet were all she was dreaming of.

Harry did as he was told, but not without a look behind him as he passed through the rows of tables and made his way toward the door. She had done it specifically that time; for the first statement, it could be deduced that it was coincidence that she spoke such things as Harry was walking by, but this time she had addressed him. Holding that look on her face as if he had a speck of sauce on his nose and she couldn't bear to inflict the embarrassment of pointing in out, she bid him leave. Pushed him away from her affairs. It wasn't like Hermione at all.

Ron didn't seem to notice anything. He grumbled as he walked away from the front desk, complaining about such a stupid excuse for a class, and grabbed his bag before joining Harry in the hallway.

"That was a ruddy waste of time, if you ask me," Ron cursed, looking aggravated. "No fun at all."

"Yeah," Harry agreed distractedly, watching as Hermione picked up her conversation with their enemy, looking happy to be doing so. He felt his heart drop as she threw her head back in laughter, placing her hand on Malfoy's knee as she took humor in whatever he had said. Draco himself was smirking in satisfaction at his joke, looking content and happy in his situation. Harry wanted to curse him; he was trying to steal Hermione. "Ron, did you notice anything different about Hermione today?" Ron gave a great laugh.

"I'm not blind, Harry! Blimey, Malfoy must have done a job on Herms before; I've not seen her like that since we forgot her birthday."

"Well, she doesn't seem to be too upset with him now," Harry pointed out, giving a nod in her direction. Ron turned around to see Hermione leaned close to Malfoy's ear, whispering something that gave a devilish look to his impish face. Ron's eyebrows narrowed.

"No, she doesn't. Who does she think she is, consorting with _Malfoy_?"

"It's not who it is that bothers me so much as the fact that it's happening at all," Harry proclaimed, shaking his head. "We have to do something, Ron. She's leaving us."

"But what, Harry?" Ron asked, relying on the-boy-who-lived to be the creatively constructive of the two of them. Harry thought for a moment, then sighed.

"We can start by paying abnormal amounts of attention to her. I'll talk to Ginny, so she doesn't get suspicious. I suggest you do the same thing with Aly. I know you're not exactly dating yet, but it won't exactly help you to win her over."

"All right," Ron agreed with a nod, as he had no other plan already fabricated. "It's a start."

-x-

"So," Hermione said as she began collecting the papers on the desk, just after Aly Staar had deposited hers and scrambled out the door to meet Ron, who was still waiting though Harry had left to find Ginny. "What was that oh-so-important bit of information you had for me?" Draco, standing and changing his shoe back into a shoe, looked mildly confused.

"What are you on about?" he asked honestly and Hermione beaned him over the head with a scroll.

"Just before we came in? You tried to bribe me into speaking civilly with you. I couldn't, because of course I couldn't risk losing my edge, but now my moment has passed and I am ready and willing to listen to you. Speak now or forever hold your bloody peace. Do remember that the latter is a most prestigious option."

"Oh, that," Draco said, smiling at the rest of her statement but otherwise ignoring it. "I wanted to tell you that the spell is ready. Seems though you don't need it after all."

"Oh, but I do. How did you get it down so quickly? I've not even begun to practice yet. Are you _trying_ to show me up? How tactless of you."

"Perhaps slightly," Draco admitted, attempting to look innocent. "But it was more that I wanted not to fall behind you. I knew it'd take a bit of work for me, I didn't anticipate you _needing_ practice." Hermione shrugged.

"Well, I don't rightly know. I've not tried it. What was the incantation again?"

"Pario Prodigium," Draco replied reflexively, and Hermione nodded once.

"All right," she said, producing her wand from her cloak pocket. "_Pario Prodigum_." As anticipated by Hermione, but not by Draco, absolutely nothing happened. She shrugged. "I'll get it later. I think I pronounced it wrong." He nodded slowly. "So," she continued, slipping her wand away again. "You've managed? Let's see it then." Draco nodded determinedly and lifted his ebony stick, pointing it toward a desk in the center of the room.

"_Pario Prodigium_," he chanted with a quick turn of his wrist and the desk instantly became a great hulk of an ogre, wearing full body armor and carrying a large metal axe. Hermione unconsciously took a step behind Draco, peeking around his arm to see the monstrosity he had created.

"Bejesus, you weren't kidding. I didn't know it was supposed to be _that_ big," Hermione exclaimed, hiding herself behind him and holding tightly to his upper arms. Draco chuckled softly.

"It's supposed to be however you envision it. See? _Finite incantrum_." At Draco's word, the monster disappeared, being replaced again by the desk. Hermione's grip slackened slightly. "_Pario Prodigium_," he repeated and, in place of the desk, was now a giant, saber-toothed rose-colored rabbit. The rabbit twitched its nose and Hermione laughed as she watched it sit down and lift a leg to scratch at the fleas living inside its furry ear.

"Well, that won't really intimidate the students, will it? Aw, it's so cute," she cooed, stepping out from behind her human shield. Draco smirked.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. On guard!" he shouted to the rabbit, and it immediately abandoned its digging to sit perfectly upright, bearing its long teeth and beginning to growl, causing its upper lip to tremble. Hermione regained her post, using Draco as her protector.

"All right, all right! Note warranted!" she said, shaking him. "Make it stop, it's going to eat us!"

"She wouldn't do that unless I told her to," Draco said, but flicked his wand and stopped the spell. The bunny became again a desk, which wobbled momentarily before resting again on all four legs. Hermione relaxed and released him, stepping away to gather the papers.

"Well, at least we can use the spell now. Try not to make them so vicious next time, won't you? I can't very well teach if I'm paranoid and looking over my shoulder at every other word."

"Why should we bother? You've brought up quite a stir with your performance today."

"Well, yes," Hermione agreed after swinging her bag over her shoulder and collecting as many of the essays as could fit in her arms, leaving a manageable pile on the desk for Draco to pick up. "But I can't possibly do that all the time, and it's bound to become less intimidating. They just weren't expecting it tonight. We have to have a more permanent plan; this seems perfect, I just don't want to put the poor things in rehabilitation post graduation, is all. Can't we agree in that respect?" Draco laughed at her expense, picking up the scrolls and leading her into the hallway. "If you say so, Hermione. If you say so."

-x- -x- -x-

"Ha, listen to this one," Draco said from his place against the couch, holding open a rolled parchment to view the sloppy text inside. "'A girl can go blind if she swallows too much spunk." Hermione, who was lying down on the floor in front of the fireplace amongst a littering of scrolls snorted softly in laughter at his quotation. It was nearly eleven in the evening, three hours after the start of their class, and Draco and Hermione were comfortably set up in the common room, reading through the amusingly uneducated declarations about sex that marked the lines of text crammed into three foot scrolls of yellowed paper. What had started as a quiet affair had grown into comedy hour once Draco found a comment about the length of fingernails mirroring the length of penises that he simply could not keep to himself and was forced to share with her. Hermione responded with a line concerning the increase of fertility if sex was preformed on a beige carpet as opposed to a darkly colored one.

"How about 'Using silverware to off oneself may result in lead poisoning,'" Hermione countered without hesitation, crossing her ankles above her. Draco chuckled heartily and Hermione smiled at the sound, turning to look at him as she rolled up another scroll and placed a check next to a name on the long list of students. She reached for another from the pile and began reading, but Draco simply watched her, eyes alight with curiosity. It didn't take Hermione long to notice his stare, and she turned to him quickly, catching him red handed before he could avert his eyes.

"What?" she asked, smile illuminated in the light from the fire. Draco shook his head, bowing down to read the next essay. Hermione was persistent. "Really; what?"

"It's nothing," Draco assured, tilting his head back up again. "I was just thinking; you're more confident now." Hermione's eyebrow remained raised.

"How do you mean?"

"Well," Draco began. "Last week you couldn't even say the word 'sex' in front of Dumbledore, and you were anything but collected when we were going over notes and strategies the next day. Now you're _laughing_ about it and having no trouble whatsoever in joining my search for the most idiotic rumor to cross the threshold of Hogwarts Academy. What's up, Granger?" She shrugged, looking almost disappointed that it hadn't been something more interesting.

"Nothing, really. I'm nervous mostly around professors and the like; people who are watching me and waiting to correct any little thing I say, analyzing and hanging on my every word. I just don't want to make a fool of myself. My reputation around the school is pretty much that I have _no _experience and am completely naïve to the sexual world. Off topic, I find my position as teacher of this class somewhat ironic in that respect, but frankly I don't care what the students think of me. I have nothing to lose; no popularity, no high ranking reputation, nothing."

"What about your friends?" Draco asked before he could stop himself and smiled sheepishly as if in apology. Hermione, however, grinned at him.

"If they abandoned me because I misspelled 'epididymis' on my note sheet, they wouldn't really be my friends, would they?" she pointed out wittily with an arch smile, and Draco returned it.

"Well," he said, shifting slightly. "That still doesn't explain why you were so nervous around me last week. You had no problem recruiting me to help you explain things to Dumbledore, and I wasn't 'hanging on your every word'."

"That was different," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I was trying to impress you."

"Impress me? Why?" he asked honestly, then calculated in is mind her words and a smirk spurt forth on his lips. "You fancy me. I know you do; admit it- starting is the only way to see what can progress."

"Ugh, belt up. I just don't like being second best. I wanted to for the same reason you wanted to perfect that spell; I don't like having people know more than I do about anything. I wanted to prove to myself that I knew more than even you, who has quite a promiscuous reputation, about the workings of the human phenomenon known as sex."

"Wow Granger," Draco said mockingly, faking a trance over her declaration. "That's deep."

"I thought I told you to shut your mouth?"

"I thought I told you to admit that you fancy me."

"I can't do this anymore," Hermione said, shaking her head and pushing herself off the carpet. She clambered to her feet and stepped in front of the fire place, kicking the little rolls of paper a safe distance from the flames. "I'm going to bed. See you in hell." Draco said not a word until Hermione had opened the door to her room. Just before she could step inside, she was startled back by his voice.

"I didn't mean it, Hermione," he said, sounding suddenly serious. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, turning back to face him. Draco stood from his spot and moved toward her, sighing.

"What I said about the Gryffindor. I didn't mean it, really. I didn't expect you to get upset," he explained and Hermione smiled, shrugging slightly.

"It's okay, Draco. I told you, I wasn't that upset. I overreacted on purpose, so we wouldn't need the spell tonight. It worked out all right, I'm not mad at you," she told him, and Draco gave a nod.

"Good, then. Sweet dreams," he said and, spinning on his heel, made his way to his bedroom and closed the door. _Well,_ Hermione thought. _That was odd._

Hell, that boy altogether was one rook short of Wizard's Chess.

-----------------------------------

A/N: I don't really have much to say for this chapter. My apologies for that; I'm so tired right now I can barely see straight. I got my learner's permit and my braces off all in one day, and I _really_ need a nap.

Let me know what you think. I say this in fake optimism that you will review, though usually that does not occur. Evidently, people can't make out this button:


	5. Proverbial Bloodshed

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

"What I said about the Gryffindor. I didn't mean it, really. I didn't expect you to get upset," he explained and Hermione smiled, shrugging slightly. 

"It's okay, Draco. I told you, I wasn't that upset. I overreacted on purpose, so we wouldn't need the spell tonight. It worked out all right, I'm not mad at you," she told him, and Draco gave a nod. 

"Good, then. Sweet dreams," he said and, spinning on his heel, made his way to his bedroom and closed the door. _Well,_ Hermione thought. _That was odd._

Hell, that boy altogether was one rook short of Wizard's Chess. 

-----------------------------------

Chapter Five: Proverbial Bloodshed

"Okay, is everything ready?" Harry asked, surveying the room. Ron and Aly gave him simultaneous thumbs up, grinning from ear to ear. "Good," he said, "Everybody hide." In a wave of giggles and excitement, all the occupants of the Gryffindor girl's dormitory crouched behind beds and furniture, whispering quietly amongst those shushing.

"Is Ginny downstairs already?" Aly asked Harry, who had situated himself on the opposite side of Ron, and he nodded. 

"Hermione's not one to be late to anything; early would be a better guess. She's been waiting for ten minutes already," he said, sharing a friendly smirk with Ron at his girlfriend's expense. The redhead, however, lost his amused expression more quickly and traded it for one of uncertainty. 

"I still don't understand this, Harry. Are you sure it's going to work? What's an... _ub__-birthday_?"

"It's _un_birthday, Ron," Aly corrected, shaking her blonde curls softly. "And yes," she added. "It most definitely _will_ work. I'd simply _die_ if someone did this for me." Aly sighed dreamily, turning her face away from the Gryffindor boys, who lifted simultaneous eyebrows at her state. 

"Right..." Ron mumbled, then turned to his best friend. "I still don't get it." Harry sighed. 

"Remember in first year...? It was the second or third day of school, before we really even _liked_ Hermione, and she was standing in the middle of the common room, preaching about a book she was reading that she 'thought we would find beneficial' because we seemed to be having 'identity crises'?" he asked impatiently, lending to the idea that Ron was completely mad for not having recalled. He stared blankly, jaw slacked and eyelids dropping slowly as he blinked. 

"Harry," he started softly, as if afraid to offend. "Hermione does that practically everyday. How am I to remember _one_ specific book?" 

"This was the very first time she'd ever done that. She made a lot of choices that day; she came out as herself and showed everyone who she was, what they were dealing with. I'm sure she didn't realize it at the time, but that was a _very_ important move for her. This, what we're doing here, is tribute to that," Harry said, having no trouble finding words to express what he had spent hours creating and plotting. Ron stared somewhat blankly, but his attention remained focused, trying to fit together whatever point Harry was trying to make. "That book, the one that she composed an oral analysis of right there in the middle of the common room, was Alice in Wonderland. Of course, I didn't actually _read_ it, but I saw the film with my cousin that summer." Harry paused. "Well, sort of. He was watching it in the family room and I spied through the knothole in my cupboard door, but I got the gist of the whole thing. The Unbirthday is every day out of the year that _isn't_ your birthday. There was a mad rabbit and a barmy man with a green hat... having tea. They were singing, too. Come to think of it... that whole thing was rather disturbing." Ron gaped.

"Harry, how can you _remember_ that? It was like... six or seven years ago!" he asked in astonishment and Harry gave half a smile, shrugging.

"I remember my very first pair of shoes," he said off handedly, "and that was about twelve years ago. They were bright orange and brand new... and then Dudley threw a fit because they were 'the fruitiest Easter gift he'd ever received' and ran over them in the driveway with his bike before my Aunt finally told him to stop and let me have them. They were dirty, about three sizes too big; one had a cracked sole and the other a broken shoelace, but I _loved_ them. I wore them until I bought new ones with my school uniform." There was silence for a moment as both Ron and Aly gaped at him, though for completely different reasons. 

"Harry, what colour did I try to turn Scabbers that day on the train?" Ron asked in a manner that issued an overspill of importance to the answer, and Harry lifted an eyebrow. 

"Yellow?" he said inquisitively, and Ron's eyes widened further. 

"..._How_?" 

"You remember it too, don't you?" Harry countered and Ron nodded slowly. 

"Well, yeah... but I spent a whole month before that trying to learn the spell. I hear it in my nightmares sometimes," he said melodramatically and Aly gave him a cool and sideways glare, pursing her lips in disapproval. With a flattened palm, she swung at the back of his fiery head and he drew his eyebrows in confusion. "Oy! What's that about?" She shook her head. 

"You're such a dolt, Ron; really," the blonde girl muttered, then turned to Harry, ignoring Ron as he tried to inflict guilt and pity by whimpering softly and rubbing the back of his skull. "Your first pair of shoes was at age _six_?" she asked Harry, mouth drawn in a wiry little frown. He gave her a half smile in validation of her question and Aly exhaled through her nose, shaking her head as if the idea should have been obvious. "No wonder you've such flat feet." At this, Ron stopped his pity party and focused his undivided attention instead on Aly. 

"And how would you know?" he asked accusingly, earning himself an eye roll from Harry and a smirk from the blonde at his side. 

"Oh, are you jealous, Ronny? Betrayed you for Harry's feet, have I?"

"Perhaps you should hide in the closet, Al," Harry suggested, now smiling amusedly at the taunting. "The floor isn't the best place to avoid feet. Ron has a right to be suspicious." Ron's face flushed so that his freckles blended perfectly into his skin. 

"Oh, shuttup," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "I hear Hermione coming." It was a lie, and an obvious one, but worked out none the less. Aly let her bottom lip encase her top one, forming an irresistible pout that had Ron easily less tense and grumpy. Mission complete, she smiled and kissed his cheek, then settled down to watch the door for signs of the Head Girl's appearance. Harry, always the smartass, leaned forward in mock of Aly's display of affection and Ron glared slightly as he pushed him hard in the chest. Harry laughed, but was shushed by another, who quickly spread the word. The quiet chatter in the room died down and Hermione could be heard in deep conversation with Ginny about what to expect in the second half of sixth year potions. 

"Ginny must have said she needed help with homework," Harry said under his breath to Ron, who nodded at the possibility. 

"... and after that, Snape likes to torture you with different medicinal potions which have drastic effects if produced incorrectly, and threatens to send any improper potions to Madam Pomfrey for use in the ward. I doubt he actually does; with some of the mistakes I remember from last year, I'd wager half the school would be out with missing ligaments or added plumage..." Hermione could be heard, her voice growing slightly clearer as she neared the door. Ginny could be heard laughing overenthusiastically at her anecdotes; a warning sign to those within. 

"Get ready!" Harry hissed along the floorboards, and bodies fidgeted in anticipation as the doorknob turned. 

"Surprise!" yelled the guests in unison, startling Hermione so that she dropped her book bag for favor of covering her gaping mouth. 

"What? But... my birthday isn't until..." she trailed off, stuttering, but Harry and Ron came quickly to her rescue, grinning at their clever co-conspiring. 

"This isn't for your birthday, Hermione," Ron corrected and Harry nodded.

"It's for your _un_birthday."

-x- -x- -x-

"So, anyway, Hannah," Hermione said, taking a step into stance and serving the birdie to the best of her ability over the net between them. "I don't understand what's going on," she continued, stopping only to retort a move made by the pretty bronze haired Hufflepuff immediate her. "First they were normal, then distant for a few days, and _now_ they're treating me as if I could _die_ at any moment. They've been complimenting me and carrying my books and making sure I eat properly... I'm beginning to wonder if I've got some strange, exotic disease and I'm the only one who doesn't know about it." 

"Yeah," Hannah replied, dashing across her side of the makeshift badminton court which was constructed on the Quidditch pitch in the middle of a row of five. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to that party, but when McGonagall says she won't accept _anything _late, she means it. She had me proofreading essays until midnight... and then she did them all over and graded me on my accuracy!" She swiped at the birdie with brute force to slake relief from her frustration, but missed and spun to the ground. Hermione immediately broke the rudimentary rules of badminton to cross below the net and assist her fallen friend. 

"Are you all right?" she asked immediately, but Hannah was already getting to her feet. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, standing to dust off her standard issue Games uniform; a pleaded skirt of house black and matching top embossed with a large printed replica of the Hufflepuff crest. Hermione, who was also wearing her Games apparel (though Gryffindor themed), noticed a certain angry twinge to Hannah's retort. 

"Are you sure...?" she repeated gently, letting her racket hang low to the ground whilst she placed her other hand on Hannah's shoulder. The Hufflepuff girl sighed in exasperation.

"You know, you might think Snape has certain disrespect for Gryffindor, but I tell you; _everyone_ has disrespect for Hufflepuff. I even think Professor Sprout expects less from us. We're not stupid, you know. I'm sick of people always thinking so," she said, taking a step to the left to retrieve the birdie lying immobile in the grass. 

"I know you're not," Hermione said, trying to be comforting, and Hannah gave a weak smile. 

"I know. I didn't really mean _everyone_," she said and sighed. "I guess I'm just angry at McGonagall. I really don't like her much." The Gryffindor allowed herself half a smile as she made her way back to her end of the court. 

"Truth be told, neither do I... but she has good intentions, so I do give her credit."

Hannah smiled and made to serve, but a whistle pierced her concentration and she dropped both her racket and birdie for favor of covering her ears against it. Hermione, opposite her, did the same. 

"Wrong! Wrong, Miss Abbot!" called Madam Hooch, descending on them from the air where she had been observing both the three lines of badminton courts and the boys' fencing matches on the other side of the pitch. "Two point penalty; it is Miss Granger's serve!" she scolded and Hannah looked troubled and nervous. Madam Hooch's voice softened as much as possible for the stiff old woman, and she gave a slight smile. "I know it may seem hard for you, but _do_ try to stay to the rules, won't you? Miss Granger, I expect you to help your partner in any way you can." 

"Yes, Madam," she said reluctantly and Hannah cast to her an accusing glare. Hermione turned her eyes to her canvas running shoes, feeling as if she had betrayed her friend. Madam Hooch nodded and kicked off, taking again to the air. Hermione and Hannah watched her grow smaller and turned away only when their teacher made a distinct and rapid beeline toward the boys' side of the field. Hermione hesitated before shifting from her spot. "I'm sorry." Hannah shrugged. 

"It's okay," she said sadly. "What were you supposed to say? Come on; let's just play before she comes down again. It's _your_ serve." Hannah surrendered the birdie to her Gryffindor opponent and moved back into position. Hermione, though she felt more words were somehow in order, sighed and returned to her spot as well, silently serving though her pitch did not make its mark in the service box across the field. 

"Sorry! One thing I never was good at," Hermione called with a lopsided grin and Hannah smiled as she retrieved the birdie and launched it perfectly. Hermione managed to make a bunt, and the game commenced. There was a brief period of silence, which Hannah evidently did not enjoy, as she broke it quickly with spontaneous conversation.

"So, what were we talking about? Right; Harry and Ron. What was that party for, anyway?"

"You'll never believe it," Hermione warned, concentrating on the little rubber stopper complete with feathered cone. 

"Try me." 

"My _un_birthday. Completely based on a film that I have never seen which took foundation from a book that I _did_ read and happened to recommend. Somehow they thought my very first lecture on reading somehow... labeled me as myself; the bookish, bossy, passionate, annoying little egghead they seem to see me as. I guess they had good intentions and it was a sweet gesture, but the reasoning behind the party was utterly offensive."

"Don't be too hard on them. They obviously think your friendship is threatened by _something_ and are trying their very best to make things stay the way they are," Hannah reasoned, making her plays flawlessly and foiling Hermione more than once. "They love you a lot."

"I know they do, they've just _confused_ me. And on top of all that, I've this _insanely_ bothersome class to prepare for and teach with Draco, and _he's_ been acting strangely as well. I try to stay away from the Great Hall's treacle fudge; did someone slip something into it?" Hermione wondered aloud and Hannah laughed, shaking her head. 

"'Tis a possibility, however unlikely. What's up with Malfoy?" 

"That's just it, I've _no idea_," Hermione admitted, throwing her hands up in exasperation and missing a perfectly planned and accomplished pass. "If I didn't know better I'd say he was _flirting_. We've been having stranger conversations and spending more time together that absolutely necessary, and he's _apologized _to me on more than one occasion." Hannah, who had just prepared herself for a serve, stopped midway to stare in astonishment. 

"Really? Malfoy?" she asked. "How do you mean? Did he... 'I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to hurt you...'?" Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. He made a comment once that he'd... spend more time with me if I wasn't in league with Gryffindor, as if I _wanted_ or had _choice_ in the matter... and we fought about it. Later that night he apologized for everything and told me he hadn't actually meant to offend me. What am I supposed to _think_ about that?" 

"Well, I assure you, I've no idea," Hannah said, shaking her head, but a smirk appeared on her lips. "But now would certainly be an opportune time to ask." Hermione leapt and made contact with the birdie at such an odd angle it shot directly into Hannah's abdomen and she caught it there with her hands. 

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, ignoring the fact that she had nearly maimed her Hufflepuff friend, and Hannah gestured with her racket to something a distance behind her partner.

Hermione turned to meet eyes with a silvery haired Slytherin who carried under his arm a foil and fencing helmet with his suit tucked neatly inside it. He, too, was wearing his uniform; identical to both Hermione and Hannah, but with long shorts, as per men's style, and themed of his own house. When the Head Boy saw that she had seen him, he lifted his free hand in a wave to his academic equal. Hermione, frozen in surprise, mutely returned the gesture, watching as Draco set his equipment down on the bottom row of the stadium stands and sat down beside it, lifting a knee to act as a prop for his chin as he watched the girls attempt the somewhat impossible act of mastering the age-old game of badminton. 

"What's he _doing_ here? Shouldn't he be fencing with the others?" Hermione asked through her teeth, ignoring Hannah's obvious amusement at the situation.

"I bet he came just in case you fall and your skirt rides up," she said, stifling a giggle with her hand. Hermione shot her a glare. "Oh, don't _deny_ it, love! From what you've told me alone, Malfoy...- excuse me, would you prefer I call him Draco now?" She smirked. "_Draco_ has an obvious infatuation with you. Come on, Hermione; Draco Malfoy doesn't apologize to _anyone _for anything less than murder, if that. Much less a muggleborn Gryffindor."

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed at Hannah's latter comment and the Hufflepuff held up her birdie and racket in a gesture of defense. 

"You know I have nothing against it, Hermione," she pleaded, but her friend looked anything but appeased, so Hannah continued. "Just as I know you have nothing against Hufflepuff." At this, Hermione seemed somewhat eased. 

"Fair enough," she peered over her shoulder to see that Malfoy was indeed looking at her, but smoothly ran his gaze along the rest of her row and on to the next as if scouting for no specific someone. "Let's just ignore him and get this all over with, the pervert," Hermione suggested, looking down at her watch. She groaned. "Only another _half hour_ before showers," she complained, rolling her eyes, and prepared her stance for Hannah's serve.

"Ready?" she asked of courtesy. 

"Yeah," Hermione replied, trying futilely to detach her mind from the pureblooded peeping tom. Hannah made a flawless execution, but Hermione's swing merely grazed the feathered cone and sent the birdie tumbling down to earth. Self consciously, Hermione peered over her shoulder to Draco, who seemed to have anticipated her looking as his focus was now placed over the specks of pitch grass which resided within the tread of his shoes. She noticed, however, that he seemed somewhat disappointed, holding a frown on his lips and his brow wrinkled slightly. Hermione had a feeling it wasn't over the grass. She tossed the birdie back to Hannah and awaited another serve, vowing not to make a fool of herself. 

She managed; after the first volley, each successful one became easier and less apprehensive until there was a dead heat between them and both managed to hit with accuracy and precision. In the end, it was still Hannah who gained a point and the right again to serve. After three more drops of the fledged cork, only one of which was a count against Hannah, Hermione sensed movement behind her. The event she had anticipated since his arrival had come upon them; Draco Malfoy was walking quickly toward her.

She looked away, pretending ineffectively that she hadn't noticed his approach. Hannah, who had control of the play, did not share Hermione's forethought and stared as the blond Slytherin made his way toward them. Draco stopped within feet of their court, watching silently as Hermione begged with her eyes to be served. 

"Hey, Malfoy," Hannah said uneasily and Hermione groaned. She turned toward the new arrival, pretending to the best of her ability that she had not noticed his presence. 

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked in fabricated surprise. "Shouldn't you be fencing?" Draco shrugged.

"I was, until a few moments ago," he said, taking a step toward them. "Hooch kicked me out. Said to give the others more than a muggle's chance in Knockturn at becoming victor." Hermione and Hannah shared a look, then turned again to Malfoy, with skeptically raised eyebrows. He smirked. "All right, so I was a bit hard on Potter and Weasley. As of when is that a crime?" Hermione dramatically rolled her eyes. 

"So what is it you want from me? Permission?" she asked, turning away and showing little interest in the conversation. Draco chuckled and shook his head. 

"I want to play. I think you could use a bit of coaching anyway, Granger," he said and lifted his hand, gesturing for Hannah to surrender the birdie. Seeing no reason not to do so, she tossed it over the net and, though it did not make the intended mark of Draco's hand, he caught it as easily as he would a kamikaze snitch. Hermione shot her a sharp glare, but Hannah smiled innocently and went about toying with her racket. 

"I most certainly do not. I am fine here, Draco, but thank you for your concern. Give me back my birdie so that I may put it into play," she stated unequivocally, making to snatch it from his casual grip. Draco quickly moved his hand out of her level of reach, holding the little cork high above his head. 

"First of all, Hermione, it is a _shuttlecock_, not a _birdie_," he stated emphatically, stare narrowed at her improper terminology. Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco as well as Hannah, who had not properly contained her snicker at his inadvertently crude joke. Moments later, a smirk marred the Gryffindor's lips. 

"Fine Draco, but give me back _my_ cock and go get your own," she said, hands curled around her hips, and Draco smirked at her humor while Hannah burst into near hysterics.

"You two should go on tour! Stop by Hackney and get me a backstage pass, would you?" 

"Oh, shuttup Hannah," Hermione shot at her, though her retort was lacking in any species of ire, and smirked between her consorts. 

"So," Draco intruded, sharing his gaze between the girls. "May I play or not?" Hermione studied him for a moment, as if assessing his intention, then shrugged. 

"All right," she said, saying a spell to temporarily duplicate her racket, and handed him the copy. "But nothing funny. And don't patronize me; I don't need your bloody coaching." 

"Oh really? Is that why you only managed two points the entire time I was watching you?" 

"Ha! So you admit you were watching me!" Hermione countered, poking an accusing finger directly toward him. Draco looked surprised. 

"Well, _yes_. I couldn't take my eyes off you," he admitted without hesitation, and Hermione looked taken aback; she hadn't expected that sort of confession. Draco seemed not to notice her reaction. "It seemed like every move you made was wrong. It took all my willpower not to come over here about twenty minutes ago. You _do_ need my help, Hermione. You may not be willing to accept it, but it would do you well to." Hermione stared heatedly, unable to form a proper comeback, and was forced to settle.

"You were _fencing_ twenty minutes ago," she pointed out lamely and Draco lifted an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione emitted a frustrated growl. "Fine. Fine! I'm terrible at badminton. Hell, I'm terrible at _everything _sport, game, _skill_ related. Why do you think I frequent the library? I can't _have_ fun, so I _read_ about people having fun. That doesn't mean I need your help, Draco, it just means I suck at badminton. Are we going to play or not?" Draco lifted his hands in defense and backed into his service box, though he held a smirk about his face whilst doing so. With an angry exhale, Hermione turned expectantly toward Hannah, waiting to see the _shuttlecock_ make a flight over the net. 

"Wait!" Hannah called. "We need a forth!" Pausing mid-serve, Draco pointed his racket toward a blonde Ravenclaw girl, dressed in blue, sitting cross-legged on the grass beside her racket and watching a heated game between Millicent Bulstrode and Lavender Brown. The house rivalry seemed to heat competition, as they showed no sign at all of allowing the meek Ravenclaw admission to the game. 

"Hey," Draco called sideways to Hermione, who gave him her full attention and followed the path of his racket, spying the girl to which it pointed. "Do you know her name?" Hermione waved her hand in the air, neglecting to answer her Slytherin teammate. 

"Aly! Aly, over here!"

-x- -x- -x-

"Hermione, you have some serious explaining to do," Harry said as he took his seat beside her, startling Hermione from both her jellied muffin and selected reading. 

"Damn straight," Ron added as he appeared on the other side of the Gryffindor table. She marked her page and closed her book, then swallowed before giving them any attention. She noticed immediately that both seemed embarrassed, bowing their heads and hiding their faces. 

"What are you two talking about?" 

"Did you really play badminton with Hannah, Aly, _and_ Malfoy during Games?" Ron demanded without hesitation, trying to look threatening while at the same time not making direct eye contact. Hermione was slightly staggered by his question, and completely suspicious of his modesty.

"I did," she admitted. "How did you know, and why does it matter?" 

"It's all over the school," Harry said, helping himself to a turkey sandwich and completely usurping the bowl of celery sticks and baby carrots. "We've heard all sorts of rumors."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Colin even took a picture on his way back to the bloodsheds," Ron said, speaking of the supply shacks aptly nicknamed by the students of the late 1800's, forced to battle dragons and wrestle bogles for _their_ version of 'Games'. "Said it was for 'house unity' or some rot, but I bet he took it for his Lovely Luna so that she could write a no doubt _glorifying_ article for her father's bloody magazine. You watch, Hermione, soon half the wizarding world will think you're all _friends_ with Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to her muffin, uninterested. 

"So?" she asked. Both boys' heads snapped up and in her direction, forgetting about whatever it was they were trying to hide, but Hermione refrained from focusing her gaze anywhere but the jelly jar and muffin tin. "It's your fault anyway, in truth. If you hadn't gotten him kicked out of fencing he wouldn't even have _been_ there. I was just being nice. He wanted to play, I saw no harm in it." 

"Do you want to know _why_ he got kicked out?" Ron asked threateningly, and Hermione lifted her eyes, heightening an eyebrow questioningly. 

"Why?" 

  
Simultaneously, Harry and Ron shook the hair from their faces in exactly the same flick of the neck, displaying two identical, round purple dots pressed into their foreheads that shared the exact shape and diameter of a fencing foil. Ron's was directly in the center, while Harry's appeared slightly off to the side so as not to lose its glory while hidden within his scar. Hermione felt herself slightly smirk while Harry pointed a carrot at the mar in his flesh. 

"_Malfoy_."

"Honestly, you're both such _children_ when it comes to this. Malfoy too, as a matter of fact. It'd do you well to grow up a bit," Hermione said, shaking her head and chuckling softly to herself. Harry and Ron shared a look, clearly taking offense in her amusement of their situation. They turned back to her with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"You think this is funny, do you?" Harry asked, smoothing his disheveled hair over his forehead to the best of his ability. 

"_Children_ are we?" Ron added. Hermione frowned, though she couldn't pinpoint what she had done wrong. 

"I..." 

"You think we _need_ you to be our mother, Hermione? I've got one at home and she's enough for one lifetime, thank you," Ron continued, rolling his eyes at the thought, and Harry nodded. 

"And don't even play the 'you can't do your homework without me' card, because I assure you, we are _not_ idiots," he added. Hermione gaped, while Ron picked up where Harry left off. 

"Yeah! We're just lazy. We'll show you!" 

He stood up to leave and Harry followed suit, bringing with him his sacred bowl of vegetables, and together they stalked from the room, bursting through the doors and leaving Hermione to puzzle endlessly what had happened. 

"Wait! I... it wasn't... I didn't mean... _what_?"

-x-

Once outside the great hall, Harry and Ron lost their stern looks of anger for favor of countenances washed with relief. 

"Do you really think this'll work, Harry?" Ron asked unsurely and his raven-haired friend shrugged. 

"Might. Great show, we put on. Couldn't have gone better. Now we'll just have to wait and see what happens. Jealousy is a tricky thing." 

"But do you _really_ think she'll be jealous just because we're _mad_ at her? That's a bit of a stretch, especially for Hermione. She's more apt just to be angry back," Ron pointed out and Harry nodded. 

"That's where Ginny and Aly come in. We'll recruit them to instill feelings of guilt and encourage a makeup between us. It's a perfect plan, Ron." 

"Oh," he said softly, beginning to follow Harry as he made his way toward the common room. "Hey, Harry?" 

"Yeah?" Harry answered through a mouthful of carrots and celery. 

"Shouldn't we have told them that first, _before_ we severed ties with Hermione?" Ron asked and Harry stopped mid-step and mid-chew. 

"I _knew_ there was something..." 

-----------------------------------

A/N: There's another chapter! No classes or anything of the sort, but Harry and Ron's plan is just as important, in my opinion. I really liked this chapter, even though it had very little to do with anything. I titled it Proverbial Bloodshed of course, because of the qoq "bloodshed" as well as the fact that they were fighting, which is like war, which is synonymous with bloodshed. It's all a very complicated process. :oD


	6. Ostensible

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

"But do you _really_ think she'll be jealous just because we're _mad_ at her? That's a bit of a stretch, especially for Hermione. She's more apt just to be angry back," Ron pointed out and Harry nodded.

"That's where Ginny and Aly come in. We'll recruit them to instill feelings of guilt and encourage a makeup between us. It's a perfect plan, Ron."

"Oh," he said softly, beginning to follow Harry as he made his way toward the common room. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry answered through a mouthful of carrots and celery.

"Shouldn't we have told them that first, _before_ we severed ties with Hermione?" Ron asked and Harry stopped mid-step and mid-chew.

"I _knew_ there was something..."

-----------------------------------

Chapter Six: Ostensible

Hermione stepped confidently up to Draco's door and rapped harshly against it with a closed fist.

"Malfoy," she called somewhat sadly, knocking again. "We have to finish reading those essays." There was a pregnant pause and no response. Hermione knocked again, sighing in exasperation. "Malfoy! I know you're in there! Draco, come on, don't make me do everything myself." The hardwood door swung open so quickly that Hermione took a step back in alarm. "Oh..." The tall brunet in the doorway, dressed in Slytherin robes, lifted a caramel tinted eyebrow and dragged his olive eyes up and down her figure. She regarded him warily and turned her eyes to Draco, who was coming up to the side of his guest. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had... company." Draco shrugged, but the brunet smirked.

"Oh, you're no interruption, Granger. Just having a bit of pillow-talk; listening to light jazz and doing our nails, that sort of thing. You're welcome to join us. You know, you'd look pretty good in drag," he said smartly, and Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a sideways glare.

"Oh, shuttup, Clint. I thought I told you to shove off?" Draco interrupted, giving his friend a good hard shove, which ultimately sent him closer to Hermione and she quickly took a step away.

"Right, love. I'll see you in the morning, then?" Clint asked his host before wagging his eyebrows at Hermione, who took the opportunity to look disgusted. Draco smiled acerbically.

"It's a date," he agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm. Clint grinned and took a step closer, but Draco lifted his hand to keep him at a safe distance. "If you even _pretend_ to _try_ to kiss me, I swear to all spiritual entities that I will shove my broomstick _so far_ up your ass, you'll be tasting gerbils for a week."

"Mmm, you should know better than to tease me like that, Drakey," Clint piped in retaliation, but the heated glare he received from the head boy was enough to quell his inclination to jest. "I'll just be showing myself out, then." He quipped and made haste to breach the threshold of the common room portrait. Draco dropped his arms, shaking his head, and started for the fireside couch. Hermione followed, keeping a sour scowl on her face.

"I don't much like your friends, Malfoy."

"Coincidently, I don't much like yours either. Imagine that," he said, smiling as he sat down on the middle cushion.

"Are you dating him?" she blurted, then quickly covered her mouth, surprised at her callousness. Draco laughed.

"And that would be a no, Granger; I don't catch left-handed. I'm tutoring him; French," he said, watching as she hid her blush and sat cross legged on the floor. Hermione relaxed as much as possible, deciding it best to pretend her slip up had never happened.

"Why French?"

"His parents are very old fashioned; he's turning sixteen and he's got to go through this big, old-country French wizarding ceremony to receive his family's permission to be considered an adult. It's rarely done anymore. A big, long, boring gig; he has to read for about an hour out of this French book, and he can't speak French. Evidently, there's a questioning after the reading, so he has to comprehend whatever it is they're feeding him in order to pass. It's a disgrace to his family if he doesn't. I can't speak it well, but I can read it, so I thought I'd help him out."

"Sixth year, then?" she asked, recalling a boy she'd mistakenly believed to be Clive Zimmerman. Draco nodded.

"Zimmy'll be a man after Christmas holiday."

"Is he...?" Hermione started, frowning at her difficulty in composing her thought. Draco smirked.

"A sausage jockey? Honestly, I've no idea. I don't rightly _think_ so, but you never really know with a guy like Clint. He's not allowed to date, with this whole not-yet-a-man business, but I imagine he'll take it up after the ceremony. We'll find out then, shall we?"

"Are all your acquaintances so complicated?" she asked amusedly, and Draco shrugged.

"Isn't everyone?" he countered wittingly, and Hermione's smile fell into a little frown as she thought of her own acquaintances and their strange behavior. "Was there a reason you called me out here?" Draco added after a pause. "We almost had a breakthrough in irregular conjugations." Hermione shook herself of her self-depressing thoughts and straightened.

"Oh," she said. "Right. I was thinking of reading the rest of those essays for Sunday night and I thought you might want to join me, but if you've other obligations, I can do them alone."

"And leave me out of all the fun? Hardly," he said, sounding almost excited to be included in the event, and summoned the scrolls from her room with a freshly produced wand. Hermione watched as they levitated toward her and lifted an eyebrow at her flatmate as all but one drifted to the floor at her side and the other made its way directly into Draco's waiting hands.

"I'm not sure if I like that, Malfoy," she said, smirking playfully. "Think of all the other things you could summon from my room."

"Humble, aren't you, Granger?" he asked, mocking her playful tone, and Hermione gave a slight shrug as she chose a paper from the pile. "If I may," Draco started as he opened his scroll and made a show of beginning to read the essay within. "Aren't you _forgetting_ something?" Hermione paused her reading of a particularly accurate and uneventful essay to look up in confusion.

"I don't think so," she admitted, recounting her plans for the evening. "Am I? What?" Draco gave half a shrug.

"You're never... _here_ on Thursday nights. I assumed you were out late with the Gryffindor, there being no classes until after lunch tomorrow."

"Oh," Hermione said, frowning and turning her eyes back to her draft. "Nope. I'm free." She tilted her head. "Trying to be rid of me, are you?" Draco smiled.

"Thought I'd ask; wouldn't want an angry Gryffindor breaking down our door and accusing me of dissuading you in some way."

"That definitely isn't going to happen," Hermione informed, slouching softly and moving to lean against the sofa. Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh, really? What's the trouble, mon bonbon? Tell Dr. Draco all about it," he said in mock-concern, paying an overenthusiastic amount of attention. Hermione smiled.

"Harry and Ron are in a mood. I'm sure they'll get over it eventually," she said, turning again to her scroll.

"Ah," Draco said, nodding his head as if thinking. "I see. It seems my work is done here; you've worked out your problem all on your own. I'll expect my money up front, mind you." Hermione laughed.

"Actually, Draco..."

"That's _Dr._ Draco. Or, Draco M.D., if you prefer."

"Yes, well, I'll have to see some sort of degree before we get into all that..." Hermione jested, smirking wildly. "Doc, I have to admit that _you're_ the problem. They're mad at me because I let you play with us in Games on Monday. Evidently, I've committed some sort of treason. I place all blame on you." Draco paused for a moment.

"That'll be an extra 15% added to your bill," he stated seriously and Hermione laughed, shaking her head and making a little notation in the corner of her current reading selection before moving on to another.

"I'm not at _all_ worried about it," she said convincingly. "I'm just a bit lonely. And I _hate_ being lonely."

"So you've chosen me as your savior, have you?" Draco asked suggestively, moving to occupy her uncluttered side on the plush carpet. Hermione chortled.

"If it helps you sleep at night," she said, relaxing against the back of the couch. "Look; Arnie Karol assures that the number one, most important rule regarding sex is that, if you've burdened yourself with an unwanted horn, and you've let it progress to some proper violet plums, it is imperative to immediately immerse yourself in a bath of tomato paste and garlic. It'd do well of you to remember that, Malfoy; in case Zimmy doesn't come through." Draco chuckled.

"I've always preferred a good thrap to a... bowl of bullock soup," he admitted as if it were tactful and refined, ignoring the twist in Hermione's face. "That is, unless I have a good cook."

"You're very charming. Really," Hermione said mordantly, banishing Arnie Karol's scroll.

"Or so I've been told," he said with a smirk. "Pass me another?"

"Get it yourself," she shot, attempting to sound icy and succeeding only in coquettish obstinacy. Lifting an eyebrow and looking almost impressed, Draco reached over her to the pile of scrolls, and took his time in selecting the most painfully short. Hermione pressed herself into the couch, trying to retain as much of her personal space as possible, but Draco was on to her hard-to-get routine and purposely pressed closer. When he pulled back, scroll in hand, Hermione graced him not with her attention. She folded her legs to sit sideways, facing the pile of scrolls, and rested a bent elbow against the couch cushion as she read. Draco, keen to her signals, sat in satisfied silence as he read through his essay. The tranquility of the room was disrupted after a few minutes, broken by chortles from the blond head boy. Hermione couldn't help but to peer over her shoulder. "What?"

"Granger, will you assist me in an experiment? Solely for the sake of science, I assure you," he asked slyly, a mischievous note in his voice. Hermione lifted her eyebrow warily.

"What're you going to do, Malfoy?" she asked him incredulously, making herself aware of his every move. He smirked.

"Nothing invasive, I promise. Just, turn. Face that way," he said, placing his scroll on the ground and gesturing in the direction that he wished her to turn. Hermione, though suspicious, did as requested, setting down her scroll and straightening, turning her face away from him. She was alert and conscious of his movements, waiting to feel something grotesque; a hand on her chest, or a squeeze of her bum. When she felt his hands, they were on her upper back, fingers marking small spots above her shoulder blades. She realized that she felt nervous, a little rustle of butterflies in her stomach, as if he were to be her first lover. She bit her lip and tried to push the feeling away. Draco, who felt the spike in her heart rhythm, paused a moment before lifting one hand from her back again, using it to brush the flow of hair over her shoulder, and exposing her neck. When she felt his lips against her skin, Hermione tensed and pushed him away.

"_Malfoy_," she scolded, surprised at him, but he merely smirked.

"Science, Hermione, science. Think of me as some dashing, debonair stranger," he coached and, releasing a shuddering breath, Hermione turned and again staked her requested position, facing away and leaving herself vulnerable to his attacks. Draco resumed slowly, placing his palms against her shoulder blades and pressing moist lips to her neck. Hermione was stiff and still, chewing her lip as she willed the butterflies to leave her.

As he marked tiny kisses into her shoulder, Draco's hands made a slow and easy trip down her back, coming to a stop in the little dip that marked her small. Hermione, attention focused on the series of kisses, did not notice this until Draco pressed a thumb between the bones of her spine and allowed his other to make a spiral path back up the length of her back. Taken by surprise, she straightened with a soft gasp and arched her back against his treatment. Draco stopped his markings, which had only been meant to distract her, and followed the exact directions of the student's paper, watching as Hermione melted in his hands. _Thank you, Ian Whitcomb._

As his right thumb moved closer to her shoulders, Draco pressed his left deeper into her back. She squirmed more persistently with each vertebra passed and little breathy sighs began to periodically escape from her lips.

Just as Draco's inclining hand contacted the point at which Hermione could reach over her shoulder and have impeded its progress, Draco stopped, releasing her from his mesmeric hold, and Hermione shuddered at the loss of touch, relaxing slightly. The head boy traced her upper arms with his finger tips, up and down each three times, as per recipe, before making a sudden move to press both thumbs into the back of her neck. Hermione straightened once again, completely enthralled with his touch, and enjoyed immensely as he massaged the taught muscles of her neck.

At some point not in Hermione's recollection, the boy with hands blessed by the gods moved from her rear to directly in front of her, continuing his massage over her shoulders and up the sides of her neck. When his thumbs reached the pulse points below her jaw, Hermione mechanically pitched forward and connected their lips in a hypnotic kiss, to which she was reciprocated.

They parted gently and he failed to release her from his placid hold.

"Draco," Hermione whispered softly, opening her eyes for the first time since feeling his hands behind her hips. Draco followed her example casually, as if being interrupted while trying to sleep. "Was that... supposed to happen?" He exhaled a breath she hadn't known him to be holding.

"...No," he admitted softly and Hermione blinked, swallowing.

"What... _was_ supposed to happen?"

Draco's hands melted from her slender neck.

"Pretty much everything you did... _except_ that."

"Oh," Hermione said and a steady blush crept into her cheeks. "I... erm..." She laughed uncomfortably. "Awkward situation. Time to make a hasty exit." She pushed herself onto her feet and started quickly toward her room, leaving Draco alone in the middle of their common carpet.

"Wait," he called after a moment and Hermione stopped, hands pressed to her burning cheeks, but refused to turn back. "What about the essays?"

"Tomorrow morning," she suggested, starting to walk again. Draco's voice halted her a second time.

"I have a date tomorrow morning."

At this, Hermione spun, stomping back toward the couch without thought of her rouge.

"You have a _girlfriend_ too? Hell, Malfoy! As if I don't feel bad enough already! _Fuck!_ I'm a bloody mistress now!" she cursed, falling into a panic. Draco stood from his kneeling position on the floor and took a step toward her, confused.

"Whoa, Granger. Shuttup a minute so I can talk to you," he said, waving a hand in front of her face. Hermione sighed, allowing her entire body to fall slack and forming a pout with her lips. Draco sighed and shook his head, as if to clear it. "I've a date with _Clint_ tomorrow morning. Remember?"

"Oh," she breathed and smiled nervously. "Right. Good luck with that. I'll finish them on my own... and if I don't, who's to know? Right?" Draco lifted an eyebrow, regarding her amusedly. Hermione swallowed. "Well. Late... should sleep so I can... homework." She paused, aware that her mouth was incredibly dry. "'Night, then, Malfoy," she said, giving him a curt nod, and made a hasty retreat to her room. Draco watched as she closed the door behind her, and returned to the couch, locating the scroll of a Mr. Whitcomb and marking a large red 'F' just below the neatly printed text. To hell with the boy if he thought the assignment graded.

-x- -x- -x-

"Harry, _what_ do you _want_?" Ginny moaned in exasperation, allowing her boyfriend to lead her to the Gryffindor common room couch. Harry sighed, looking slightly worried and self-conscious about the sticking plaster which covered his fencing bruise. Pomfrey had assured him she had no time for such petty matters and wordlessly went about treating a first year that had been caught between a pillar and a bludger

"Can't you wait a minute? I'll tell you when Ron gets back with Aly."

"Why's he gone to get her again?" she asked, smoothing her skirt and bringing her legs to curl beneath her. Harry gave her a crooked smile.

"Come on, Gin. You _know_ they've got a proper mutual fancy. What's that look? Are you jealous? Think she's going to steal him away from you?" he teased, prodding her gently in the side, and Ginny gave him a sideways glare.

"Hardly. I'm actually in a bit of a guilt, as it is. I feel I should warn the poor girl," she countered, watching a smirk form on Harry's face.

"You're something else, you know that?" he asked, amused, and Ginny lifted a challenging eyebrow.

"Want to make something of it?" she suggested, but any reply was interrupted by the entrance of a very flustered couple. "Ron!" Ginny exclaimed before she could stop herself, surprised at his appearance, and Ron smiled guiltily.

"Took you long enough," Harry added, pretending as if he hadn't noticed the rumpled state of his best friend. Ron blushed to the tips of his ears, and Aly smirked, latching her arms around one of his.

"Yeah, well," Ron said, smiling crookedly. "We got a little... side tracked."

"Spare me," Ginny said bitterly, pushing her boyfriend over and making room for another beside her. "Here, Aly. You sit here... by _me_." Ron, obviously disappointed, turned to his blonde companion with a puckered bottom lip. She smiled softly and turned back to Ginny.

"Actually, I think I'll sit..."

"No. You won't," Ginny countered, ignoring the glare she received from Ron, and stared persistently at Aly, who indiscreetly squeezed Ron's hand before agreeing and taking a seat by his sister. Ron, now with a perpetual glare centered directly on the youngest of his siblings, threw himself into a large armchair, unable to shake the feeling that it felt lonely.

"_So_," Harry began, cutting into the awkward situation. All eyes immediately focused themselves on him. "About what we have to tell you. Well, ask you rather." Ginny lifted an eyebrow, but Aly sat meekly, as if frightened to share any opinion, and kept her lips buttoned, though she too was curious of Harry's intention.

"Go on," Ginny urged, and Harry sighed, looking to Ron for assistance, but he was occupied by switching his gaze from exponentially angry when looking upon Ginny, to soft and full of condolence for Aly.

"Right, well, we've told you our plan to keep Hermione from being so distant..."

"Yes..."

"Well, we need to enlist your help for the next step," he said simply, then paused. "Or rather... the _rest_ of the next step."

"Harry," Aly ventured softly, and jumped as Ginny turned her amber eyes toward her. "Um, what did you _do_?"

"Well," Harry began. "It's a bit complicated."

"We posed a falling out. Got her right confused, accusing and all that," Ron answered for him, and Harry gave him pleading look.

"Harry!" Ginny said, slapping his arm. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's about the _opposite_ of what you planned to do." He brandished a guilty grin.

"That's _sort of_ why we need your help," he said, approaching the situation carefully. Ginny lifted an eyebrow, motioning him to continue. "Really, the plan was to make her feel guilty and realize how much we meant to her... but now we've reason to believe that that won't work out on its own." Ginny looked impatient, and Aly too was beginning to seem suspicious.

"And...?" the sixth year prodded.

"And..." Harry answered. "We want you to... help it along a bit. Put in a good word; don't make it look like we don't need her, or that we're miserable... but say it isn't the same. Make her want to come back." A long silence followed Harry's explanation, punctuated only by the noise of the various other Gryffindor which occupied the room. Aly was, unexpectedly, the first to speak up.

"I won't do it," she said, convincingly. Three sets of eyes snapped toward her. "I won't help you _trick_ your best friend into being miserable and running back when she _didn't do anything_. You're hung up on the pretense that she's friends with Malfoy. I was _there_ on Monday. I _saw_ them together. They act like any two of us would. Harry, does it bother you that I'm spending time with Ron? Do I _threaten _your friendship?" Harry sat, wordless and gaping like a fish, unable to compose a coherent response.

"Aly..." Ron added, but his only reward was the disappointed gaze of his tentative girlfriend.

"Ron, does it bother _you_ that Harry is dating your sister? Does _she_ threaten your friendship?"

"No, of course not. None of that is true," he said, shaking his fiery head, and Aly gave a stern nod.

"Exactly. What makes Hermione and Malfoy any different? Just _leave_ her be and let her be happy," she suggested, shaking her head as she rose from the couch. Ron was up in a moment, walking after her, chiming his apologies. Harry waited until they had breached the portrait threshold and the door had closed behind them before he relaxed into the sofa.

"Huh," he said, sounding in the aftershock of surprise. "I hadn't expected that." Ginny turned her eyes, still hard in their glare, on to his pensive face. In one fluent motion, she reached out and ripped the plaster from his forehead, causing Harry to call out in both surprise and pain. Ginny stood, throwing the little plastic bandage on the ground below him.

"She's right, Harry," she told him sternly before making the trip around the couch and disappearing up the girls' staircase. Harry rubbed his head gently, picking the sticker from the carpet with a sigh.

"Hadn't expected _that_ either."

-----------------------------------

A/N: Hey everyone, I know it's been a while. I spent almost a week just rereading LGG... trying to find what you guys see in it ;oD that sort of thing. Lol. I _hope_ to be getting back to my regular schedule of one story update a week, but I make no promises. I've got finals coming up, and lord knows I need the review. Review if you are so inclined.


	7. Perpetuation of Pretenses

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

"I won't do it... Just _leave_ her be and let her be happy," Aly suggested, shaking her head as she rose from the couch. Ron was up in a moment, walking after her, chiming his apologies. Harry waited until they had breached the portrait threshold and the door had closed behind them before he relaxed into the sofa.

"Huh," he said, sounding in the aftershock of surprise. "I hadn't expected that." Ginny turned her eyes, still hard in their glare, on to his pensive face. In one fluent motion, she reached out and ripped the plaster from his forehead, causing Harry to call out in both surprise and pain. Ginny stood, throwing the little plastic bandage on the ground below him.

"She's right, Harry," she told him sternly before making the trip around the couch and disappearing up the girls' staircase. Harry rubbed his head gently, picking the sticker from the carpet with a sigh.

"Hadn't expected _that_ either."

-----------------------------------

Chapter Seven:

Hermione shifted her shoulder bag, which was laden heavily with her students' essays, and sighed as her shoes clicked on the cobblestone hallway. It, in truth, was one of her favorite corridors; overlooking the courtyard with large glass-less windows that gave the castle a feeling of fantasy, as if it were more than simply a commonplace school.

She felt a slight tugging in her chest and slowed to a stop, letting her burden of a bag rest on the floor. Hermione sat on a window ledge and dangled a leg over the side as she watched the students that scurried about the large square of grass encased within four Hogwarts' walls. She remembered a courtyard similar at her primary school, decorated with student murals along the outer walls and littered with kick balls and jump ropes.

She felt a familiar pang in her chest, and Hermione sighed. It had happened in each of her six previous years at the academy, and she did not expect less of her seventh. She missed ignorance, muggledom, and, above all, fantasy. As a child, Hermione had dreamed of unicorns and magic and old, long bearded sorcerers. She could spend hours locked in books of science fiction and fantasy, imagining herself as one of the lucky protagonists, swept into a life of mysticism and wonder.

When her letter had arrived and her dreams had come true, Hermione was ecstatic. She pinched herself periodically throughout each of her days, hoping and praying that it all wasn't a crazy dream. Her first trip to Diagon Ally had been enough to completely enthrall her in the magical world and she made a solemn vow to learn everything about it that there was to know.

After the magical world had rejected her in her very first year, claiming her bookish and obsessive; a 'nightmare' in the words of Ronald Weasley, Hermione had gradually lost faith. She felt misplaced, as if she didn't belong, and her childhood dreams of magic and the world of fantasy were tainted with reality. For some time, Hermione continued to pinch herself; hoping that just once she might wake up, feel momentarily curious of her dream, and shuffle off to a day filled with algebra and grammar exercises.

Harry and Ron had warmed up to her after they had exchanged the favor of saving life and she had become less miserable, but even with her popularity and success, Hermione couldn't help but feel disappointed. She lived her fantasies in her everyday life and they became mundane and trite. If she wanted to see a unicorn, she needed only to ask her friend the giant to open the pen buried in the forest; to see a great feat of magic, only to wave her wand or open a text. After six years it had become, truthfully, boring and unsatisfying. As per each half semester, nearly like clockwork, Hermione sat on the ledge and imagined the simple pleasures of riding down slides and swinging from tree-bound tires, fishing in puddles and testing candies for the _taste_ and not the transformation. She felt homesick for her muggle life, and wallowed for a moment in self-pity.

"Hermione!" called a voice from down the hall and Aly turned from where she was making her way down a hallway, allowing her mary janes to click on the cobblestones just as Hermione's had and skidding to a halt in front of her esteemed friend. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but caught herself and frowned, looking curious. "Are you all right? You look sad." Hermione smiled and turned briefly to look into the courtyard.

"Don't mind me. Did you need something?" she answered diplomatically, looking somewhat wistful. Aly looked suspicious, but decided against further questioning. She sighed, shoulders slouching slightly.

"Look, about Harry and Ron..." Aly began, fidgeting nervously, and Hermione calmed her with a grateful smile.

"Don't worry about us, Aly. I'll wait a few days and apologize, like I always do, and we'll make up once again. It's nothing to agonize about; I know how to deal with them..."

"No! You can't do that!" Aly suddenly called, and Hermione was taken aback by her uncharacteristic outburst.

"What?"

"You can't, Hermione," she repeated, this time more calmly. "That's what I've come to tell you. You can't apologize."

"Why? Aly, what's going on?"

"Because it's _their_ fault; you didn't do _anything_. Apologizing would be giving them what they want!" she said, throwing her hands up in her fit of emotion.

"Well... I don't want them angry with me, do I? What's the harm in letting them win?"

"It's principle. Surely you believe in principle!" Aly said, smiling at her humor. "You're Hermione 'Principle' Granger."

"Well, of course I do, in certain circumstances. Being angry for principle in this situation is a bit extreme, don't you think? They're just being Harry and Ron; accusatory, stubborn, and begrudging. They've always been that way, I don't rightly expect them to change," Hermione explained and Aly sighed.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I think there's something you should know," she admitted, taking a seat beside the Head Girl. Hermione looked understandably curious. "Harry and Ron did this on purpose."

"What?" Hermione asked, though she felt very much like a broken record.

"They're threatened by your blooming friendship with Draco Malfoy," she admitted, looking ashamed to be doing so. "They think you'll become friends with him and completely forget about them, so they've devised a scheme to make you feel guilty and miss them. They _want_ you to come running back. I've already told them _just_ what I think of their plan, but Merlin be Malfoy if they listen to me."

"Hey," Hermione warned, though she couldn't place exactly why she felt such a pull to protect Draco's namesake. In retrospect, she thought perhaps that Harry and Ron's distrust in her jump started a phase of rebelliousness. Aly smiled guiltily and blushed.

"Sorry. Bit too much time with Ron, I guess," she admitted, rolling her eyes, and Hermione laughed lightheartedly at the thought.

"Yes? And how are the two of you getting on?"

"We're officially dating as of last night at about eight thirty," Aly answered sheepishly. "He came to my common room to get me and asked, and I said yes, and then we... we went to Gryffindor Tower because he and Harry wanted to talk to Ginny and myself." She sighed and frowned. "That's when they told us about their plan. We already knew they were trying to pay extra attention to you, but the falling out wasn't mentioned until that meeting. I left in a huff and refused to talk to Ron. He didn't bother to come see me this morning, like he usually does."

"Don't-" Hermione started, then paused, straightening from her slouch. Aly lifted an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked, but Hermione shook her head.

"I thought I heard something. Anyway, don't be too hard on Ron," she said. "He means well." Aly waved her concern away.

"Oh, I know that," she said. "I'm not angry anymore." She smiled slightly. "I actually sort of miss him... just a bit. He didn't walk with me to breakfast. He _always_ does that." Hermione smirked.

"Ron might not have a lot of experience with women, but he's lived with Ginny for all of his reflectible life. He knows better than to cross us when we're angry. He's giving you some space, bask in it. He'll be on his knees by supper."

"That'll be interesting," Aly said, laughing softly. "I'm not about to go crawling back to _him_, I-" She paused suddenly, creases forming in her forehead as her ears perked. Hermione nodded, looking equally as confused.

"I heard it too," she said, and they sat in silence, waiting for another note of the mysterious sound. After a moment, Hermione opened her mouth to comment, but was interrupted as a large pebble bounced off her nose and dropped onto the floor. "Hey!" she exclaimed, clamping both hands over the raw canker forming on her neb.

"Sorry!" called a low voice from the courtyard, and Hermione leaned over the railing to identify its source.

"Malfoy?"

Two stories below her, Draco was standing beside Clint Zimmerman, who happened to possess an armful of small stones that she assumed would serve as ammunition. Clint turned to his blond friend with a jeering smirk and Draco sent him a sideways glare. In retaliation, the darker boy dropped his stock of ammunition and shrugged his shoulders, turning to look up at the hovering Head Girl.

"Granger! Malfoy wants you!" he called and Draco aimed an elbow precisely between his ribs. Clint gave a howl of pain and laughed, clutching his side. "To come down, to come down! I would've said it!" Hermione smirked down at the two of them as Draco glared down his injured friend.

"All right. Going to catch me, Draco?" she teased and received a look of surprised from Aly, who hadn't anticipated her to _flirt_ with the boys. Hermione immediately realized what she was doing and her face fell from a playful smirk to a look of confusion. She bit her lip, searching her brain for something to say to Aly, to _herself_ which would account for her actions. Aly, however, read her loud and clear, and turned to lean over the railing as well.

"Better yet, why don't the two of _you_ come up? Tailor to a lady, won't you?" she called, laughing foolishly to herself, and Hermione gave her a little push in mock indignation. Draco and Clint shared a look, then a shrug before producing their wands and casting simple levitation charms upon one another. Aly and Hermione distanced themselves from the railing in anticipation of their arrival, giggling like the school-girls they were, and the boys landed beautifully on the stone. Clint, being the evidently smarter of the two, lifted a leg to seat himself safely on the railing, but Draco locked his shoes into place between the banisters and remained exposed to the courtyard. Hermione crossed her arms and took a step toward him.

"Malfoy, come over the railing," she demanded, cocking her hips and waiting impatiently. Draco shared a look with his friend, who had sat back to watch the show, and smirked evilly at his academic equal.

"Why should I?" he asked innocently and Hermione looked surprised at his blatant disregard for her order.

"Because I _told you to_, that's why," she seethed, eyes slightly narrowed. Draco rested his chin upon a closed fist.

"What are you going to do if I don't? Take house points?" he teased and Hermione kept up her facade of anger, taking a threatening step closer.

"I'll push you," she warned and Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"Would you, now?"

"Don't test me, Malfoy. I've no problem holding Sunday's class in the hospital wing," she said and Draco smirked, straightening up.

"Well, Granger..." he started, playfully swinging his body outward while grasping the handrail with whitened knuckles. Hermione inadvertently gasped, locking both hands around one of his wrists before she could consider what she was doing.

"Draco," she breathed, countenance of anger dissipated. All four occupants of the hallway looked surprised.

"Ah, worried about me, are you?" Draco prodded, unable to let such an uncharacteristic and mortifying action slip unnoticed. Hermione, frowning in defeat, lifted a hand to rest against his chest while the other slipped from his wrist. She moved very close, nodding her head at his accusation, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. Draco, though surprised at her acceptance of his mockery, said nothing to dissuade her. "All right, Granger, I'll come over," he said and made to lift his leg. Unexpectedly, Hermione gave a great and unexpected push, sending Draco flailing over the side of the balcony and making disgruntled sounds of fear as he neared the ground. Having anticipated her own actions, Hermione held her wand ready and stopped him a decimeter from the ground, only yards from a bunch of fifth years who were watching the scene with intense interest. Draco allowed himself to breath once he had stopped, pale against the grassy knoll below him. Hermione waited a few seconds, then appeared over the railing, holding in her hand the same pebble that had jostled her nose.

"Asshole!" she called down to him before throwing the rock with incredible force. It connected with Draco a few centimeters northeast of his navel and he fell the short distance to the ground in effect of the force. Hermione let out a 'humph' of satisfaction and lifted her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, Aly. We've got a t-fig test in twenty minutes; let's go study."

"Yeah," Aly said, unable to stop smiling as result of what she had witnessed. "Sure, Hermione. Bye... Slytherin boy," she said, waving to Clint, who acknowledged her casually and tipped his head in her direction. After the girls had disappeared down the hallway, Clint leaned slightly over the railing. Draco was still laying spread eagle on the ground, admiring the rock which had bruised his abdomen.

"That went well, don't you think?" Clint called down to his friend and Draco replied by exposing one well placed finger directly between his pinky and thumb.

-x- -x- -x-

Hermione sat cross legged on the couch, poking at a box of chocolates while licking droplets of the previously melted brown confection from her fingertips.

"Ah, here, love," she said, finally uncovering a pineapple cream and offering it to her messenger. He took her furnished morsel appreciatively, wrapping a little pink tongue around the tip of her finger as he polished it off. Hermione giggled childishly and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Off you go, now," she said, waving her hand to shoo him away. He hopped off the couch and bounced three times on the floor before taking flight and exiting through the open window. Hermione smiled after him and turned back to her chocolates. "The school owls are so amiable," she muttered to herself while tasting a brilliantly savory dark chocolate/coconut interfusion.

Draco Malfoy burst through the common room door in a huff, and Hermione pretended that his presence meant absolutely nothing to her and spared not a moment of her time to glance up at him. Draco seemed to do the same, lodging fingers in his already tousled hair as he paced back and forth through the common room and mumbled incoherently to himself. Though she was still occupied with her chocolates, Hermione spied him from the corner of her eye; annoyed at his incessant moaning and groaning as if in pain. Finally fed up, she dramatically rolled her eyes and folded her arm over the back of the couch to act as a resting place for her chin as she watched him.

"Problem, Malfoy?" she asked and Draco started quite violently, ripping his hands from his hair with such carelessness that his ditch-water locks stuck straight up with their misused gel base. Hermione buried her face into her arm to stifle a giggle.

"Granger," he said, sounding very much surprised to see her, and Hermione gave an innocent wave. Draco stared for a moment, breathing rhythmic and labored, before he straightened and prodded the air between them with a rigid index finger. "You," he said accusingly, and Hermione batted her eyelashes.

"Me?" she mocked and he sprang into action by coming around the couch and taking a seat beside her while nearly squashing her tray of chocolates in the process.

"You can help me. You have to help me. Please, Granger," Draco rambled and Hermione shut him up by stuffing an English toffee into his mouth.

"All right, Malfoy, we'll get through this," she teased, smirking insanely. "Just breathe for a bit... that's right." Hermione waited patiently as he finished his toffee. "Good," she said as he swallowed. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"I have a t-fig midterm on Monday; first module. I'm doomed, Granger. I spent all night in the library; there's _no way in Hitler's Hell _that I can even _pass_ much less get a satisfactory grade. I _hate_ McGonagall. She signed me up to spite me, I know she did..." Draco spilled, hiding his face with his hands, and successfully missing the incredible smirk which appeared on Hermione's face.

"No you don't," she said simply, and Draco's attention was placed solely on her. He lifted his head and stared with a narrowed gaze.

"What do you mean 'no I don't'? _Yes I do_! She told us today in class; you've got NEWT Transfiguration. Don't you have a midterm?"

"Well, yes, of course I do. But you, my esteemed colleague, do not. You missed breakfast this fine Saturday morning and likewise missed mail call. Evidently, this came for you. Thank Clint; he passed it along," she said, lifting her box of chocolates and handing him a selected letter from the pile of mail which lay hidden below. Draco took the note warily and eyed her suspiciously as he broke the seal.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_It has been brought to my attention that you have been given an increase in workload from Professor Dumbledore in response to the newly acquired information regarding students and their ideals in the department of sexual education. It is for this reason that I am giving you my consent to drop NEWT level Transfiguration from your resume. It is not required of you to do so, but your frequent attempts to receive my permission in the past caution me not to anticipate your presence in my class on Monday. Do enjoy your weekend, and thank Miss Granger for bringing this to my attention. _

_Sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

"You," Draco mumbled, looking up with admiring eyes, and Hermione giggled.

"I believe we've already established that, Draco."

"Granger, go brush your teeth, because I want to kiss you!" Draco exclaimed quite boorishly and, though Hermione knew he was jesting, she self-consciously ran her tongue over the front enamel of her teeth. Draco, meanwhile, was still in the throws of gratitude. "Ha! This is brilliant! This is amazing! This is... this is... hell, Granger, _why?_"

"I promised you I would, remember? In repayment for coming with me to speak to Dumbledore. I waited a bit so I'd actually have grounds to falsely gauge your workload, but I always keep my word," Hermione explained, allowing herself to smile at his happiness. Draco stared at her with widened eyes, his note from McGonagall still clutched tightly in his hand. Hermione shared his gaze, smiling crookedly at all the radiant joy he emitted, and fiddled with the corner of her chocolate box. Without warning, Draco pitched forward and embraced her, pausing a moment before backing away.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said sincerely, holding her shoulders in his palms. "I owe you a million." Smiling awkwardly, Hermione shook her head.

"That's the beauty of it, Draco. You don't owe me anything; it was payment, in full with interest. It shall never again be mentioned. Clear?" she prodded playfully, and Draco smiled, nodding.

"Sure," he said, pulling back slowly and leaning into the couch. He sighed. "God, this is such a relief."

"You know, you could still take the test," Hermione suggested and Draco turned to her as if her head had burst into flames. Subconsciously, she lifted a hand into her hair to be sure. "What?" Hermione asked, somewhat annoyed. "It's not that far-fetched. You _did_ spend all night in the library. I assume you were studying, but then again..."

"I read _NEWT Review: Transfiguration _six times, cover to cover," Draco deadpanned, looking blankly at the carpet in front of him. Hermione was surprised.

"Wow," she said softly, and a silence ensued for a prolonged moment. Hermione tilted her head. "Do you want another toffee?" she asked sympathetically, as if he had been through a taxing ordeal and deserved a break. Draco snapped from his glossy-eyed reverie and smiled at her, helping himself to the remaining chunk of crunchy heaven.

"Have a distaste?" he asked conversationally, popping the morsel into his mouth. Hermione shook her head and went about finding a prize chocolate for herself.

"Actually, they're my favorite, but you deserved it that time," she admitted and Draco paused in his munching to view her incredulously. Hermione smiled sheepishly under his gaze and occupied herself by pinching various chocolates to identify their innards.

"Well, I might've known. Not a true English girl in the world who hasn't a fondness for toffee and tea," Draco said, more so to cover the awkwardness than spark response from his flatmate. Hermione, however, shook her head.

"Well, that's another thing. I won't drink tea unless it contains ice, a cup of sugar, and about two dozen raspberries," she said and Draco laughed.

"Bloody muggles and their habits of icing things that needn't be iced. Tea, coffee, vegetables, meat... hell, even seamen," he listed, naming off each of his fingers. "Have you heard about that? Chry-o... C-rr.."

"Cryogenic freezing; yes, I've heard of it, and I've a list a kilometer long of reasons why it's a _good_ thing. I'd advise you not to start with me," she retorted mock-threateningly and Draco lifted his hands in defense as he chuckled in her expense. With a sigh of disappointment at the break in conversation, he allowed his finger to travel into his mouth and pick the bits of toffee from the surface of his molars.

"What's all this, anyway? Have yourself a secret admirer?" Draco asked and Hermione laughed softly, shrugging.

"You might say that. I finished the essays yesterday morning and sent letters to all the students that I thought knew enough not to need the class. Namely; Neville, Aly, and about half the Slytherin. So far, Neville is the most appreciative. These are from him," she said, gesturing to the box on her lap. "They were addressed to me, but I thought I'd share with you." Draco relaxed into the couch with a sigh.

"So, how many students have we lost?" he asked, letting his lids drift downward to cover his weary eyes.

"I wrote eleven letters, but Aly says she'd like to stay with Ron, so we've lost an even ten."

"Nine Slytherin?" Draco asked, smirking to himself. "Suppose we know which is the more intelligent house."

"No, we know which is the most heartless. Most of them wrote something along the lines of _What's the blinking Third Moon? _at some point in their essay. Similar to you, their parents never bothered to soften the blow. It must be un-pureblood-like to possess childlike naivety. Were you toilet trained at two?" Hermione teased, and Draco eyed her curiously.

"What do you think I am, Granger? Retarded? My mother's nursemaid trained me the _day_ I stood up. By two I was showing the younger house elves how it was done."

Hermione laughed and opened her mouth as if to speak, but her train of thoughts was impeded by a sudden and violent knock on the door.

"Hermione!" called the unmistakable voice of Ronald Weasley.

"Let us in, we need to talk to you!" chimed his green-eyed comrade.

"I _told_ you to leave her alone, Harry!" a third party joined, fiery and sharp tongued.

"Ginny, belt up, this is none of your business," Ron scolded her, and she audibly huffed. Harry was heard defending his girlfriend after a squeal of pain Hermione attributed to a pinch from said sixth year. A commotion broke out between the trio of Gryffindor, punctuated only by a groan from a misplaced blonde Ravenclaw.

"Hermione, _help_ me!" she begged through the portrait, and Hermione stood straight from the couch, spilling her tray of chocolates over the lap of her colleague.

"Watch it, Granger," Draco bit, but half-heartedly, too amused by the scene outside the portrait door. Hermione slapped him upside the head and shoved a large coconut custard into his smirking mouth.

"Belt up or I'll let them _in_. I'm sure they're here to talk about yesterday afternoon; care to join in explanation?" Hermione asked him and Draco, who had been chewing furiously with intent of adding to the conversation, stopped altogether and smirked. He swallowed his half-chewed morsel and beamed up at her.

"Actually, Hermione, I'd like that very much."

-----------------------------------

A/N: Sorry for the incredibly late update. End of the year's a hectic time. I've my last test tomorrow, and then I'll be _done_ with sophomore year. (Yips, hoo-rahs, and yeys!) :oD Thanks for tuning in! Reviews are nice...


	8. When I See You

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

Hermione stood straight from the couch, spilling her tray of chocolates over the lap of her colleague.

"Watch it, Granger," Draco bit, but half-heartedly, too amused by the scene outside the portrait door. Hermione slapped him upside the head and shoved a large coconut custard into his smirking mouth.

"Belt up, or I'll let them _in_. I'm sure they're here to talk about yesterday afternoon; care to join in explanation?" Hermione asked him and Draco, who had been chewing furiously with intent of adding to the conversation, stopped altogether and smirked. He swallowed his half-chewed morsel and beamed up at her.

"Actually, Hermione, I'd like that very much."

-------------------------------

Chapter Eight: When I See You

"Hermione!" Four voices chorused the moment she opened the common room door, and Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Ron, don't be mean to your sister. Ginny, that's a bit extreme- I'd never expect them to _entirely_ leave me alone. Harry, I'm disappointed. I've come to expect overreactions and outbursts from Ron, but from you is something new. Aly, love, I'm sorry I got you mixed up in this," she stated quickly, turning to each of her callers in succession. With her tirade complete, Hermione was able to breathe freely, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Why don't you all come in? Would anyone like something to drink?" She turned and ducked into the common room, pretending as if Draco (who still sat idly on the couch with a smirk of sheer amusement plastered on his face) was just some odd decoration.

The four sulking and/or exasperated teenagers followed their hostess into the room silently, taking the few needed steps to clear the doorway and allow the portrait to close itself. Immediately upon recognizing the human throw pillow that was Draco Malfoy, Harry and Ron stopped in their tracks and the girls paused moments later to stare back at them curiously.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Harry asked before he could stop himself, his voice betraying nothing but surprise and bewilderment. Ron's eyebrows narrowed into a fiery line and he grunted his agreement.

"Yeah!" he shouted in indignation. Hermione, who was perkily preparing tea and biscuits, turned with a small "Hm?" of inquisition.

"Oh," she continued. "You mean that lump. He lives here, boys. Remember?" Aly and Ginny, entirely fed up with their respective boyfriends, rolled their eyes in a similar manner and finished the trek to the common room sofas. Aly made to sit on the plush settee opposite the man of so much attention, but Ginny discreetly caught her arm and gave her a look. Aly looked confused, but when Ginny boldly took a seat beside Draco, she quickly caught on and took his other side with a smirk. Amused, Draco lifted his arms over the back of the couch and slouched between the girls.

"Ladies..." he greeted suavely, and they smiled at each other before simultaneously leaning back against his arms. Harry and Ron wore identical looks of sheer shock, and their jaws fell into equal slack. Hermione trudged past, carrying a tray of cookies as the tea caddy floated behind her. Smirking to herself, she shoved a biscuit into each of their mouths and seated herself on the couch abandoned by the other girls.

"So; what brings you to our humble abode?" Hermione asked, pretending as if nothing had transpired, and taking few tasty tea cakes for herself. Ignoring her question, Harry stalked over to the more occupied couch and glared down at the boy in the middle, who playfully curled his arms around the girls' shoulders.

"Do you _mind_, Malfoy?" Harry asked tersely, pinching his lips in annoyance. Draco laughed, taking his arm from Aly's shoulders to pat on his knee before replacing it.

"'Course not, Potter. Plenty of room for more."

"_Hermione_," Ron whined childishly. "Make him _leave_." Hermione stared patronizingly up at him.

"Now, Ron, this is Draco's common room too. He has every right to be here that you do," she said, then paused. "Actually, you're not _supposed_ to be here at all."

"Blimey, she's right," Draco noted as if it were a completely new realization. "_Hermione_," he whined in mockery. "Make them _leave_." Hermione fancied him with the same glare she had given Ron, and Draco smirked in contentment. She sighed.

"All right; Harry, Ron- both of you, sit down here," she instructed, and they followed orders mutely, staring daggers at their feather-haired foe. "Now," Hermione said, looking at her watch. "It's a bit late to be coming for a 'chat'. I'd like to get to bed some time before dawn; we've got to plan for class tomorrow night. So, if you would, please get to the point."

"Well," Ron started, eyeing Draco side-slantedly. "There're some... rumors."

"Rumors, hm? What sort of rumors?" Hermione inquired with false curiosity, munching hercookies and sitting back into the plush of the couch.

"About... well, you and... _you know_," Harry tried to expand, glare piercing the blond across the way, who was now picking playfully at Ginny's auburn curls.

"I'm afraid I don't, Harry. I haven't been much in the loop lately- myself and whom?"

"I think they mean me, love," Draco piped, momentarily distracted from his observation of the angels so blessedly gracing his flanks. Hermione hid her smirk behind hernapkin and pretended to look surprised.

"Oh," she quipped. "Well, whatever it is, it can't be all that bad. Out with it." Hermione popped the last cookie into her mouth and brushed the crumbs from her hands. Looking agitated, Harry leaned in to whisper in her ear. A moment later, her eyes widened and a hailstorm of biscuit crumbs littered the coffee table. Hermione jumped to her feet. "What? Surely you can't _believe_ that!" Harry and Ron eyed each other guiltily and Hermione sighed, placing a thumb to her temple. "All right, look- there's nothing going on, all right? If there were, I would have told you, the lot of you. It'd do you well to trust me a bit more. He," she said, pointing to Draco without bothering to glance his way. "Is just my partner in this whole Heads thing, and co-teacher for that hell sent class we are burdened with once a week."

"And that would be _your_ fault," Draco added, and Hermione set her jaw. She was sure he'd blame her for it eventually.

"Shut up Draco, all right? I'm tired, I don't need this-" she said, shutting him down successfully. Draco retracted his arms from the shoulders of his lady friends, sitting with a pout marring his face, as if reprimanded for pilfered cookies before supper. "You," Hermione continued, pointing to the boys on the couch. "Are prying, and untrusting, and _untrustworthy_. Aly told me about what you were planning and," she said sharply as Ron sent a glare at his girlfriend. "Ron, don't you dare be cross with her or I'll _make_ you cross. Clear?" He nodded softly. "Now, I think we've had enough discussion for a while. I suggest you go to your rooms and _think about what you've done._" Harry and Ron shared a look, then slowly got up off the couch and started toward the door.

"Sorry, Mione," Harry called over his shoulder, sending her a pitiful look back, and Ron agreed with a nod.

"Yeah; I'm sorry too."

Hermione kept her stone stare, hands planted on her hips, as the two of them sulked through the door and it closed behind them. The moment they were gone, she allowed herself to fall limp, face first into the couch cushions. The common room was silent for a moment, but it was ultimately broken by Ginny in a lapsed moment of awe.

"Wow," she said, shaking her head slowly. Draco spared a glance at her. "You've got to teach me how to do that." Hermione snorted into her cushion and pushed herself up onto her elbows.

"Lots... and lots... and lots of practice," she admitted, groaning at the thought, and slumped her shoulders in a sigh. "Girls, I don't mean to be inhospitable or anything... but I'm emotionally spent. Would you mind terribly, just...?" Aly and Ginny shared a look and shook their heads.

"Sorry about all this, Mione," Aly said, repeating the words of her boyfriend and his best mate. "But for completely different reasons." Hermione smiled.

"'s fine. We should have a slumber party sometime; my room is plenty big enough, and I really don't think Draco'll mind- will you, _love_?" she asked, mocking his previous use of the accursed nickname. Draco smiled weakly.

"Whatever you want, Princess," he said softly, earning himself three equally raised eyebrows.

"Erm... well, we'll see you later then," Ginny offered, excusing them, and both she and Aly leaked through the door and into the hallway.

"Well, _that_ was interesting. I knew they were friendly, but honestly..." Aly said, more to herself than to Ginny, but the younger girl agreed.

"You're telling me," she offered, and Aly turned to her curiously.

"Ginny... if you don't mind me asking... why are you being so nice to me? I thought you hated me. I told Ron and he said it was some sort of little sister complex," she asked and Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Well, Ron would think that," she said, and sighed. "I never hated you, Al. I was just trying to keep you out of all... this," she said, gesturing to the Heads' common room and the world around them in general. "It's commonplace in our everyday; I wasn't sure if you wanted that." She smiled.

"It's more interesting than spending all my time with my Ravenclaw friends," she admitted. "They take their stature there _very_ seriously. It's like, just because you're Ravenclaw, you _have_ to study a minimum of 46 hours a day..." she shuttered. "I don't even _like_ studying. I'd _much_ rather be entertained by your brother and his innocent little antics. He's really like a large child."

"Wait until you see him Christmas morning."

-x-

"Hermione?" Draco asked tentatively, daring to sit forward on the sofa. "Would you mind... _stopping_ that?" Hermione, who had been staring at him with a curious expression for a much extended moment, shook herself from her daze and groaned.

"Sorry..." she mumbled, dropping her face into the couch. Draco pushed himself onto his feet.

"Maybe you should... go to bed or something," he suggested, eyeing her bewilderedly.

"Okay," Hermione slurred, then allowed herself to roll off the couch and onto the common room floor. She hadn't, however, anticipated the pit stop her head would make at the corner of coffee and table. "Ow," she stated flatly, but made no move to massage her injury or lift herself from the floor. A moment later, Draco appeared, hovering over her.

"Granger," he started. "I just want you to know that, no matter how amused I may look, I'm sympathetic on the inside." She cracked open an eye.

"Thanks, Malfoy. I really appreciate that."

Chuckling, Draco held out a hand and Hermione lazily took it, expecting him to be attempting chivalry by assisting her in standing. Much to her annoyance and later, amusement, he merely shook her accepted palm and let go.

"Night, Granger. See you when I see you," he stated briskly, and disappeared a moment later into his bedroom.

"Arse goblin," Hermione muttered none too quietly, and a loud snort was heard from the room across the way. Smirking to herself, she pried her rigor-mortified body from the ground and dragged it toward the plush, upturned bed that awaited her. She didn't bother to discard her shoes.

-x- -x- -x-

"Good evening, class!" Hermione stated, fresh from the library, as she walked into the room, but her voice was unheard.

Draco was sitting at the front of the room in a very uncharacteristic slouch of sulk, with a look on his face that could be categorized as a pout, and the children insured the natural order of chaos by completely ignoring any direction and shooting hexes at one another. Immediately, Hermione was overcome with annoyance. She stomped to the front of the room and threw her books against the table; every head snapped forward.

"Can't I trust you to do anything, Malfoy?" she asked softly, and Draco sent her a fiery glare. "All right; pay attention, the lot of you! I am _very_ disappointed in you. You're seventh years; start acting like it. This class counts toward your final scores and graduating capabilities _just_ as any other and I would _expect_ you to show a little respect and constraint. Keep in mind that there _is_ no set time limit for this class. Last week, I let you out after twenty minutes. It was fair, you were well behaved. I could easily keep you here until midnight if I wanted to. Should, really; we've a lot of material to cover in a very short period of time. But, if you're going to act like children, I'll treat you like children. Heads down, come on. On the table. Ernie, would you get the lights, please? There. Ten minutes; anyone who falls asleep gets detention."

"What the bloody hell is this?" asked someone in the Slytherin corner of the room, and Hermione forgave him in her mind; it was no doubt embarrassing to be the only of your friends to actually _need_ the class. And, she didn't have a doubt in her mind that he'd probably botched the essay on purpose; on a dare or something equally preposterous.

"It's called Time Out. Now, _Time Out._"

The student reluctantly put his head against the desktop. Hermione smiled softly at him and sat down in McGonagall's office chair, turning to talk to Draco. He held her with a look that seemed to be a cousin once removed of pride, but marred with the sulking and discontentment he had acquired at some point before Hermione had entered.

"What's wrong?" she asked him softly and he turned away, glaring across the room of children. "Draco?" Hermione quipped, somewhat concerned. "Say something." Draco rolled his eyes and drew a quill and parchment toward him, scribbling something quickly before shaking his head and scratching it out. Then, he wrote another statement, seeming to be restraining himself, and handed the paper to his partner. She took it in her hands and ran her eyes across the statement.

_I can't; one of those bloody insufferable brats hexed me._

"Oh," Hermione said and Draco turned away in what she now identified as embarrassment. Taking the opportunity, she flipped the parchment over to read what he had originally jotted.

_I can't, you dense, self obsessed, wench of a m_

Hermione had no way of knowing how he planned to finish the sentence. Mudblood, muggleborn, muggle, mutant, mouse, moose, mousse... the list was ten miles long, but, judging from the previous bits of the sentence, she concluded it wouldn't be something flattering. She folded the paper into her pocket and sat back, dwelling on what to do about the situation. In the end, she decided that, although Draco was a bastard, it was just his temper talking. His ability to quell it before he had _actually_ used it against her was admirable, and should be celebrated. In the end, Hermione decided to wait until Time Out was over to find the culprit, which she was already sure was Ron, and have the hex removed. She felt it an adequate punishment for his unbridled harshness. When Draco made to object, she shook a finger at him.

"I can't interrupt Time Out. That would nearly defeat the purpose. You'll just have to wait a minute."

He sulked the entire time, back facing her, and moving his mouth as if silently grumbling. Hermione stifled a laugh; it was really quite cute. Damn Malfoy and his _attractiveness_. She'd never forgive him.

"All right," she said, when their ten minutes was finished. "You can all get up. Ernie? Thank you, there. Now, first things first. I hope that taught you a bit of a lesson. We _may_ be your peers, but we are also your teachers, so you _will_ respect us. Keep in mind that we _are_ head students, and do have the power to remove points from your houses and dish out detention. Now, if you'll notice, we're missing a few students this evening. The essays I asked you to write were used to determine..." Hermione began, but was interrupted as Draco persistently tugged at her sleeve. She sighed in exasperation. "_What?_ ...oh. Ron, will you un-hex Draco for me? Thank you."

"What'dya mean, Hermione? I didn't hex him," Ron insisted innocently, doing his best to look anything but guilty.

"Yes you did," both Aly and Hermione chorused, smiled at each other and turned to Ron. "Don't make me take points," Hermione added. Very reluctantly, Ron took out his wand and removed the hex from Draco, who opened his mouth only to be stifled by Hermione's hand. "Say anything and I'll hex you. Set a good example, all right?" she told him through the side of her mouth, and Draco sat down again, fiery gaze on Ron.

"Fine."

"Good. Now, as I was saying... the students missing tonight displayed a fair grip on the basics of the human reproductive system, and therefore have been given a passing grade. The same standard remains for the remainder of you. I'm requiring that all of you schedule a time in which you can meet with either Draco or I and re-write your essay; the faster you get it done, the faster you get out of these tedious classes. Everyone clear?"

There were no objections, so Hermione continued.

"Now, I thought we'd start off our time together with something a bit amusing. Actually, this was Draco's idea," Hermione said, turning and smiling proudly at him. "A class pet. Or, rather, two. The first, is a shoe. Her name is Chlamydia." Hermione withdrew a small box from her bag of classroom goodies and tapped it with her wand. The class watched in curiosity as the little square grew until it was nearly as big as a fish tank. Hermione cast a knowing eye about the room before stepping back. "Draco, will you do the honors?"

"Sure," he said, all fun of the mission lost on his left-footed start. Hermione put on a fake pout and pinched his side, which, against her wishes, did little to brighten him. Now he grumbled while rubbing his side.

Draco stood from his transfigured chair and stepped up to the table, taking the cover off the coffin-like box and reaching within to lift the life form from inside. Hermione assisted by removing the box and allowing him to place the 'class pet' where it had once been, attracting the eyes of all the students, particularly the men. As he set it down, the creature stirred from sleep and awoke, stretching from her fetus-like position to reveal herself as a siren-like young woman, dressed in a short, toga style dress, and blessed with the features of a fairy. She blinked her eyes and yawned, then turned to sit with legs dangling over the edge of the desk, kicking back and forth as she studied the population of the room. When her eyes met Draco, she giggled and waved at him. He seemed a little more amiable after that. Hermione cleared her throat and broke through the mindless trance the student body had fallen into.

"Can everyone say hello to Chlamydia?" she teased, but the students chorused their hello as requested. Chlamydia giggled and blew visible kisses to many of the boys in the front row.

"Wait a minute," Sherry Phillips of Hufflepuff said, raising her hand. "I thought you said it was a _shoe_."

"It _was_ a shoe," Hermione confirmed, and Draco gave a nod.

"Damn straight it was a shoe. An Italian leather, imported from Sicily, very _expensive_ shoe. So be damn careful with it," he added, rubbing the side of the shoe-girl's face with his finger.

"Now, her brother, who was the _other_ shoe, is here in this box," Hermione said, extracting another small box, which she enlarged on the table top.

Movement could be heard inside the tote, and Hermione could tell that most of the girls were anticipating a god-like creation to emerge from the box, as Chlamydia had. Without delay, she lifted the trap-like door, and allowed the creature to scramble onto the table top. Most of the students gasped, looking on in awe, but Chlamydia screamed, standing and rushing to clutch Draco's arm. He cradled her against him, much to Hermione's chagrin and his own amusement.

"_This_," she said, pointing to the rat-like creature that had emerged, with large red eyes, matted fur, and the mutations of a thousand diseases. "Is Scabies. They will be assigned to be cared for by one student each every week. Now, obviously, you'll not all be able to care for both of them, but we'll try to be as fair as possible. Before we give them out, I'd like to inform you that any invasive acts attempted against or committed of these animals will have serious consequences. Understood?" The class chorused a half-hearted reply, eyes still rooted on Scabies, who was now chewing through the box that had kept him. "Good. Now, to the issuing. Chlamydia first... hm, volunteers?" As expected, nearly every male in the room raised their hands. Some, like Ron, were scolded by their girlfriends, but many, like Ron, remained persistent. "Aly, why don't you pick someone," Hermione suggested and immediately a redhead clasped his hands in plead, turning to his girlfriend with wide, beseeching eyes. Aly, unsure, looked to Hermione for assistance, and trusted the look on her face.

"All right, all right. Ron, I suppose."

Ron stood from his seat and kissed her full on the lips, ignoring the mocking swoons and "ooh"s from his classmates before scrambling to the front desk and taking over as protector of the little imp-like girl. He held her against him like a baby, shushing her and patting her back. Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione laughed.

"Next, Scabies. Volunteers? No?" she said, pretending to look surprised. "Draco, what do you think?" A devilish flash marred his eyes.

"I can't pick Weasley?" he asked feebly and Hermione shook her head.

"No, I don't think-" she started, but he interrupted her.

"_Ian Whitcomb._"

Scabies savagely jumped off the desk and scampered to Ian, who looked scared out of his mind. To his surprise, once the rat reached him, it lost much of its horribleness and curled into a ball on his lap. Ian hoped it wouldn't mind the dampness.

-----------------------------------

A/N: Well, I hope you guys enjoyed that. I'm sorry it's been so long, but my computer isn't the most amiable. I'll try to update again as soon as possible. Thanks for sticking with me. And review! But I don't have to tell you guys that, do I?


	9. What Sleeping Does for You

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

"Next, Scabies. Volunteers? No?" she said, pretending to look surprised. "Draco, what do you think?" A devilish flash marred his eyes.

"I can't pick Weasley?" he asked feebly and Hermione shook her head.

"No, I don't think-" she started, but he interrupted her.

"_Ian Whitcomb._"

Scabies savagely jumped off the desk and scampered to Ian, who looked scared out of his mind. To his surprise, once the rat reached him, it lost much of its horribleness and curled into a ball on his lap. Ian hoped it wouldn't mind the dampness.

-----------------------------------

Chapter Nine: What Sleeping Does for You

The heads common room was quiet most of Thursday afternoon. True to her word, (as the students seemed to enjoy disrupting her teachings with crude jokes and unintelligent questions) Hermione kept the class in session until nearly eleven thirty, and all those involved were _very_ lethargic and grumpy for classes the following day. Many students had tried to catch a few winks during the Sunday night class and Hermione reprimanded most of them. However, when Aly fell asleep on Ron's shoulder half way through _The Rises and Falls of Estrogen in the Gestation Cycle_, both she and Draco pretended they hadn't noticed.

The strain on the students was reflected ten fold in the teachers, who had ended up awake until nearly one o'clock with discussion of the class itself and the creation of a working schedule for the following week, when it was virtually impossible for them to meet up for more than a few hours a day. Quidditch season was drawing to a close and Draco had already sacrificed much of his practice time to helping prepare for the class as well as studying for his own benefit, and Hermione allowed him air-leave after expressing her gratitude. She had no doubt that losing to Harry because of her would _not_ put Malfoy in a good mood, and vowed to save the entire day of Sunday to sleep in preparation for a late night, if one should be inevitable.

Monday and Thursday were the best days for Draco to sit stationed in the common room, and Hermione tailored to his schedule by putting her studying aside for the time he was available. It seemed purposeless, however, when she showed up late on Thursday, list of excuses fresh on her tongue, to find him asleep on the couch, still dressed in his Quidditch gear. She tutted at him, silently complaining, and removed his horrendously muddy shoes to save the carpet, which already sported unattractive brown footprints. To be a good Samaritan, she put away his books and broom and sat herself down quietly with her _NEWT Review: Transfiguration _booklet, going over every problem that had appeared on the midterm exam, as well as mentally marking down the sections that seemed to have been the most heavily tested. About an hour after dinner (to which Hermione had gone and brought her flat mate back a bacon sandwich), there was a knock at the common room door. Hermione marked her review and got up quickly, scurrying across the room in hope of stopping the barrage before it woke the blond on the couch. Draco had been sleeping like a log since he'd fallen at least three hours ago and didn't seem a light sleeper. Hermione truthfully didn't expect him to wake up again until at least midnight.

She opened the door with a smile, anticipating Harry, Ron or possibly Ginny, coming to complain about one thing or another, but her smile dropped at the sight before her.

"Clint," she said before she could consciously think the word, and the smirk that crawled onto his face made her instantly regret it.

"Her_mi_one," he purred, chuckling softly before completely dropping his act. "Is your roomy here? We've got a... date." Hermione gave him half a smile in thanks for willingly submitting to easy conversation.

"Um... he is, but I'm afraid he's unavailable at the moment," she admitted, moving aside in the doorway so that the caller could view his tutor. Draco flinched and shifted slightly in response to a fly that had landed on his nose. Hermione turned back to Clint, a look of slight surprise on her face. "That's the most he's moved in hours." He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, well, he's been beating himself up at practice this week. Trying to make up for lost time, I guess."

"You play?"

"No, but I'm supportive. I watch the practices... sometimes the other houses too. Like to know my competition," Clint said, then sighed. "Damn, I needed a session, too. I've only got until Christmas." Hermione gave him a small sympathetic smile.

"I've heard," she said, and her answer was fallowed by a brief period of silence. Clint opened his mouth to thank her and bid goodnight, but Hermione interrupted him. "You know, I could take over. Just for today." His dark eyebrows buried themselves in the hair that fell over his forehead.

"You speak French?" he asked and Hermione smiled shyly.

"I'm Hermione Granger. I do everything. Come on in, we'll use my room," she said, turning and entering the common area while leaving the door open for Clint to follow. He followed her passed his drowsy housemate and toward the splendors of her room. Just as he reached the threshold, she stopped him. "Shoes off in the commons, please. I'd like to keep _my_ floor at a level of cleanliness higher than Draco's mud encrusted flying boots." Clint smiled in amusement and slipped off his oxfords before stepping into the haven that could be expected of Hermione Granger's sanctuary. It was more immaculate than he'd thought possible for the room of a teenager. "Right," she said after adjusting the covers so that the sheets would not be susceptible to any small dirt particles that may be riding with either of them. "Have a seat. Do you have any... texts, or anything?" Clint shook his shoulders.

"Usually we just wing it. I've done acceptably with conjugations, I want to start on real sentence structure... if that's all right."

"That's fine," Hermione said, taking a tablet of parchment and smuggled ballpoint pen from the desk in the corner and crawling onto her massive bed. She chewed on the end of her pen for a moment, thinking over strategies as Clint joined her, sitting cross-legged at an angle to her laid back position and watching with interest as she wracked her brain for ideas. After a moment, as if realizing that he were watching her, Hermione looked up and smiled, moving to sit sidesaddle. "You've got to listen to some old man talk and then answer questions about what he says, right?" she asked, but Clint shook his head.

"I've got to read aloud from a book."

"Oh, right. Well, let's start with that, then. I'll just write something and you tell me what it says," she suggested, then looked to him for approval. He lifted his eyebrows and gave a nod, moving closer to watch as she wrote and trying not to be too distracted by the no-doubt muggle object she was using to spread ink. Hermione dotted her first sentence with flourish and smiled. "Here. Forgive me if it's too easy; I'm trying to... gauge your level, I suppose." Clint flashed a smile, then stared at the sentence with eyebrows creased in thought. Hermione watched him with interest; he was usually so much of a joker that seeing him in deep thought struck her as intriguing. After a minute he sighed and pointed at the page.

"That's ball, right? And... The ball red... something... out of the wagon," he said, struggling slightly and scratching his head. "Ha, and you thought it'd be too easy." Hermione smiled.

"Well, you've got most of it. In most European languages, the adjective comes after the noun. Where as we would say 'red ball': in French, it's 'ball red'. This word means falls; have you studied any verbs yet?" she asked and Clint, who had been rhythmically nodding as she spoke, shrugged.

"Some. We spent all of last week on conjugations... I've just never seen this one before."

"Well, I'm officially assigning that as your homework; to learn as many as you possibly can. Verbs are very important. Do you know what tense your text is written in? The one you've to read from."

"Mostly past, like the bible. I know the basics; I'm not going to bother with the rest until afterward, when I can do it more leisurely."

"So you're going to learn it fluently, then?" she asked, sounding interested, and he nodded.

"It's a family tradition. Half my older relatives _only_ speak French."

"If you don't mind me asking, why didn't your parents have you taught when you were younger? Studies have proven that babies and toddlers are more malleable and therefore learn languages more easily than teenagers or adults," Hermione said, writing down a list of more sentences, and Clint shook his head at her textbook-like attitude.

"It's part of the ceremony. I have to learn, take part, and then," he paused to sigh. "...get married." She looked up at the note of his final step.

"Have you an arranged marriage?" Hermione asked, sounding empathetic. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Of course not. I get until my twenty first birthday to find someone, and if I don't, I get to be paraded with women of my mother's choosing and pick the one with the prettiest face and the widest hips. Depressing, really. I plan to make for myself before I have to resort to _that_. A bearded man lived in a large leather boot." She had nodded throughout his explanation, but jerked in surprise at his final statement.

"Excuse me?"

"The next sentence, there," Clint said, pointing.

"Oh," she said, laughing lightly at herself. "Yes, that's right. Seems you know more that you give yourself credit for. Forget this... here-"

"I looked when He opened the sixth seal," he began, reading as she wrote, and paused to look up at her, but Hermione continued in her task and he followed suit. "and behold, there was a great earthquake and the sun became black as lock of hair, and the moon became like blood. And the kings of the earth, the great men, the rich men, the commanders, the mighty men, every slave and every free man, hid themselves in the caves and in the rocks of the mountains and said to the mountains and rocks, 'Fall on us and hide us from the face of Him who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb for the great day of His wrath has come, and who is able to stand?'" Hermione smiled as he finished her sentence seconds after it was written.

"I thought you said you needed practice? I do believe you're wasting my time, Mr. Zimmerman."

"Well," Clint said, smirking with a quality of haughtiness that all Slytherin seemed to possess. "That one wasn't quite fair. I knew the gist of it already. Revelations." Hermione smiled.

"My favorite book. You tend to take to that sort of thing when you're a minority; death- the great equalizer," she shared, pausing for a moment before flipping to a clean sheet of parchment. "You know, I've got an idea. These are all the books I can think of that are in the library written completely in French. I think they're for the benefit of Beauxbaton's transfers... but we've got them in English as well. You can take out both and test yourself." She scribbled furiously for a few moments, then paused to think and sighed. "It seems my brain is elsewhere today. It's not much, but it's a start. Madam Pince can help you find some others, if you need them." Clint laughed.

"There are about ten books there; I doubt I'll be able to finish all _those_ in a week."

"Oh," Hermione said, counting the titles she'd written. "I suppose you're right. Sometimes I just get a bit carried away."

"Nothing wrong with that," he said, then straightened. "Listen, thanks for all your help; you really didn't have to."

"It was no trouble at all; I'm head girl, that's my job," she assured, taking his thanks graciously.

"But I'm sure you had better things to do this afternoon than hang out with some good-for-nothing Slytherin," he countered, propping his forearm between his knee and chin. Hermione laughed softly and shook her head.

"Actually, that's exactly what I had planned to do. Draco and I were supposed to have a strategy meeting, but the bloody great lump _slept_ through it... I was just studying for my t-fig NEWT when you got here."

"What?" Clint asked in pleasant surprise. "That test isn't until June. You've got months." Hermione shook a shoulder.

"I like to be prepared," she defended, and he shook his head, sitting up straight, and sighed.

"Speaking of prepared, I'd better get to the library. I'll need a running start if I plan to read ten books in ten days," he noted and she laughed, nodding.

"Right. I suppose you will." Clint stood from the bed and Hermione followed suit in common hospitality. "Hey, let me know how you're doing, okay? I'm geekishly interested. Something about preserving cultures has always appealed to me." He laughed.

"Yeah, well, I don't know how much longer we'll be doing _this_. The only people qualified to run the ceremony must have gone to school with Dumbledore," he joked and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're a lot different when you're _working_ than when you're being a _prick_," she commented, annoyed by the smirk the crawled from his lips.

"A _good_ different or a _bad_ different?" he asked, mocking her use of emphasis and Hermione sighed.

"Definitely a good different. I don't-" she began to elaborate, but her words were in vain. For a moment, Hermione scoured her brain for any reason she could find to push him away, but came up empty. She wasn't attached to anyone and, as far as she could tell, neither was he. He was a Slytherin, but initiating a kiss with a Gryffindor was much worse on the whole than returning that kiss. She was Head Girl, but there were no rules anywhere written that a peer authority figure could not have an innuendo or relationship with another student.

All excuses aside, the sole truth that made her respond to his surprisingly bold action was the fact that he was an amazing kisser. True, she had very little to compare it to, but it was a blessed experience nonetheless, and Hermione wanted to take advantage of it. Her response, which had been slightly hesitant and self-conscious while she contemplated her involvement in such an escapade, became more confident and daring. She felt one of his hands on her jawbone, and curled her own fingers over his wrist while placing her others on the collar of his shirt.

Just as Hermione was ready to admit defeat and place herself wholly into his pouty lips, Clint moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed her back, breaking their connection.

"Stop," he breathed and, before Hermione could stop herself (as requested), she pitched forward in attempt to reestablish their lover's lock.

"Why?" she asked when he held her at arms length and refused her closer proximity. He swallowed, shaking his head.

"This is wrong... it was a mistake, I- I have to go," Clint uncharacteristically rambled, then pulled away to leave, but Hermione held to his wrist.

"Why?" she repeated. "_Why_ is it wrong? Why am I always a mistake?" He sighed and reluctantly turned back to her, placing his hands on either side of her face, and she clamped her fingers around his wrists.

"Hermione, it's not you. God, it's _everything_ but you. I just... _can't_. I'm sorry," he said and he left, stomping through the common room and slamming the door loud enough to wake Draco, who very nearly fell off the couch. After a brief period of disorientation, he identified his surroundings and wandered toward Hermione's room, which was open and revealing her to be lying in a fetal like position, facing the wall and on top of her bedcovers.

"Granger..." he started, speaking softly as if testing to see if she were asleep. Hermione heaved a heavy sigh.

"Malfoy, you slept through our meeting so we'll have to do it at lunch tomorrow, because with the game on Saturday I don't expect you to have much free time, and I plan to do absolutely nothing on Sunday. I brought you dinner; it's on the end table. Now, kindly leave me alone."

"Erm... thanks, but I can't meet with you at lunch tomorrow," he said, and Hermione turn halfway over to lift an eyebrow at him.

"We can eat here, if that's what you're worried about."

"Hardly; I've got to tutor Clint..." he explained, then cursed and looked down at his watch. "I was supposed to meet him an hour ago." Hermione sighed and turned back to face the wall.

"He came here looking for you," she explained. "I offered to help since you were so obviously indisposed and I gave him a list of reading that should keep him busy for the rest of this week and next. That leaves you free for lunch. Now, as I said, _go away_."

"Oh," Draco said, sounding at a loss. "You... you helped him? Why?" He could see her body expand as she took another cleansing breath.

"I'm head girl," she noted tartly. "I had to."

-x- -x- -x-

Every head looked up as Hermione entered the Ravenclaw common room. She froze in the doorway and lifted her hand in an innocent wave, which drew much attention away from her. She received a few "Hello, Hermione"s and a very enthusiastic vice hold from one blonde seventh year.

"Hermione!" she squealed, grinning. "God, I haven't seen you in days! Not properly, anyway. Where've you been?"

"Trying to plan Sunday's class, practically by myself," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Not that it's really Malfoy's fault; I told him he could go to Quidditch practice. Biggest mistake I've ever made. I'm actually here looking for Ian Whitcomb; do you know where I can find him?" Aly looked thoughtful for a moment, tapping a finger on her chin.

"Hey, Mary, have you seen Ian?" she asked a younger student, who seemed to be making her way toward the dormitories. She didn't speak a word, but pointed to a desk in the corner where the man of the hour was seated, doing his homework with one hand and scratching Scabies with the other. [a/n mwa hahaha]. Aly thanked her friend and Hermione gave her own smile of gratitude before making the journey across the room. She sat on the corner of Ian's desk and waited for him to notice her, but he was very enthralled in his work and couldn't be bothered with such things as remaining alert to his surroundings. Hermione cleared her throat and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Scabies jumped as well, and scurried onto Ian's lap, curling up into a trembling ball.

"Hermione!" Ian exclaimed, holding the rat against him and patting it softly for comfort. "What did I do now?" She laughed and shook her head.

"Nothing, Ian, nothing. Your week's almost up, I just wanted to see how you were getting on," Hermione said, pointing to his pet. Ian smiled.

"I almost don't want to give him up. He's a little intimidating, but he's really just a big softie."

"So you're having _fun_ with Scabies?" she joked, and Ian blushed.

"I wouldn't say that," he defended. "He's very demanding; keeps me up all night, and _always_ want to be scratched and petted. I can't do much of anything _fun_ with him. I'll probably skip Hogsmeade tomorrow and stay with him. I don't think he'd like to go and it'd be too much of a pain." Hermione smiled in silence for a moment, then sighed.

"You know what, Ian? Since you've been so nice to him, and I can tell he's been happy with you, I'll take him back with me now so that you can go tomorrow. And, because you've done so well as the first to look after him, I'll fund your purchase of a _real_ rat. What do you say?"

"Blimey, d'ya mean it? That'd be great, Hermione! Thanks!" he said, lifting Scabies onto the countertop and Hermione smiled as she took him into her arms and dropped a sachet of gold in his place.

"You have a good weekend, Ian. You've done brilliantly," she said, sliding off the desk and making her way toward the door.

"Hermione," he called her back, and she turned with a smile. "Do you think I could meet you at lunch tomorrow and do my essay? I think I'm ready."

"That sounds fine, Ian. I'm free tomorrow; it's Quidditch day," she answered. "If you know of anyone else who might want to do it as well, have them come along. The more the merrier."

"Sure."

Hermione left the Ravenclaw common room after a goodbye to Aly and inquisition of Ron's whereabouts. She shook her shoulders nonchalantly and Hermione followed suit, deciding to check the Gryffindor common room before making the trek all the way to the pitch.

As Hermione entered, she only received a few looks, which were quickly taken by lack of interest. Harry was pacing the bottom of the staircase, looking very much frustrated, and Hermione sighed in expectation of something foul.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"It's Ron. We're late for practice; the Slytherin get the pitch in an hour and he's not bloody ready!"

"Well, what's he doing?" she asked innocently and Harry threw his hands to the air.

"Who the hell knows with Ron? The last I asked, he was setting a trap for your little imp girl," he said, crying in anguish. "Ron, come _on_!" A moment later, a pair of big feet began clomping down the staircase.

"I'm coming, Harry, I'm coming! She'll never get out of that, once she gets in... come on, let's fly, it'll be faster," he said hurriedly, mounting his broom before he'd completed his decent into the common room. Harry was at a loss.

"Erm..."

"Hello, Ron," Hermione said sweetly, and he blanched, coming slowly back to place his feet on the floor.

"Hey... Hermione."

"Ronald, I _hope_ you weren't planning to fly through the hallways... you _know_ that's against school policy," she scolded, smiling in amusement as Ron struggled to come up with an excuse.

"No, no- of course not. I just meant to... I mean, I was only going to fly once we were already _outside_."

"Oh, really? And why have you mounted your broom in the common room, then?" she asked, and he laughed nervously.

"Well, you see, it's a very funny thing... I... window. Going to use the window."

"Ron," Harry intervened. "Stop making excuses and just tell her, I want to get to practice sometime in this century, if you don't _mind_." Ron sighed.

"You're right, Harry. Herms, I _was_ going to fly through the halls, and I'm sorry, and I'll never do it again, and I'll have detention with Professor Sprout on Monday night. Okay?" She laughed and shrugged.

"Well, if you insist. I was actually going to let you off the hook that time, for favor of talking about Chlamydia. How are things?" Hermione asked, but had no sooner finished her question when Ron burst into complaint.

"She's a bloody nightmare! I lost her for three days, then I woke up in the middle of the night and... well... _it was the night John Tomas cried_," he said, and Hermione opened her mouth in shock.

"Ronald! What did I tell you about trying to take advantage of her!" she asked, and he looked horror struck.

"It was the other way around! He was crying in _pain_! She was using me like a combination punching bag and trampoline! I was afraid to use the loo in the morning!" he cried in defense, and Hermione crossed her arms, lips pinched in a sour expression.

"She'd only act like that if you didn't treat her well, Ron, and from your timeline, I'd say you violated her the very first day," she accused, annoyed with Harry, who was basically in tears at the loss of precious Quidditch time. "Go, Harry; Ron will have to catch up." Before his friend could make a defense, Harry had shot out of the common room like the scar on his forehead.

"All right, all right," Ron said, giving in. "This is what happened; that first night, she fell asleep before class was over and I was holding her like this." He fixed his arms in a cradle-like position, as if holding a baby. "I walked Aly back to her common room and then I took Chlamydia upstairs and put her in my night table drawer, with some pillows and all that... and then I kissed her." Hermione's eyes shone fire and he quickly held up his hands in defense. "Not like that! A good night kiss, on the forehead... like I kiss Charlie's baby when they spend Christmas."

"Anja," Hermione supplied and he narrowed his eyebrows.

"I know her name!" he huffed, then took a breath to calm himself, still glaring coldly. "Anyway, she woke up and had a fit. She spit on me, and I got these big sores, and I hadn't done anything wrong, so I yelled at her. I didn't mean to, but I was mad and... well, she ran away. The next time I saw her she was playing sausage football. I put out some sweets so she'll come and a box will fall on her and I can keep her there until Sunday." Hermione sighed.

"Well, I supposed it wasn't entirely your fault," she agreed, then whistled. A few moments later, Chlamydia peeked out from behind a bookcase and ran to her, clinging to her shin. Hermione smiled and scooped the girl up, and she blew a raspberry at Ron (who stepped back to avoid the splatter) before mounting Scabies like a horse. He jumped off Hermione's shoulder and ran toward the door, scratching against it. "Remember your detention on Monday," Hermione noted with a smirk before following her flat mate's shoes and opening the door for them. They ran off at much too quick a pace for her, but she knew they would only wander a bit before returning home and allowed them to explore.

------------------------------

A/N: Well, we learned one thing this chapter: Clint most certainly isn't gay. And he won't be getting with Hermione, either (not to ruin the surprise)... I needed him to create a bit of tension. Worked, didn't it? And wtf is his problem, anyway? Find out on our next SEXual escapade! (don't expect it as soon as this one ;o)

This is for Beach, who is a pain in my ass. Look! You're in another a/n!


	10. Of Emu, Emissaries, and Earmarked Entang...

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

Chlamydia peeked out from behind a bookcase and ran to her, clinging to her shin. Hermione smiled and scooped the girl up, and she blew a raspberry at Ron (who stepped back to avoid the splatter) before mounting Scabies like a horse. He jumped off Hermione's shoulder and ran toward the door, scratching against it. "Remember your detention on Monday," Hermione noted with a smirk before following her flat mate's shoes and opening the door for them. They ran off at much too quick a pace for her, but she knew they would only wander a bit before returning home and allowed them to explore.

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Chapter Ten: Of Emu, Emissaries, and Earmarked Entanglements

Hermione was still haunting the common room on Friday morning when she heard Draco groan and literally fall out of bed. She had no doubt in her mind that he hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night, minus his nap on the couch, as he'd departed immediately after that to practice on the pitch with the Slytherin team. Harry and Ron had griped at her door for over half an hour, complaining that they'd gotten the pitch for forty five minutes and the Slytherin could keep it until midnight if they wanted to. Hermione countered their argument with a promise to give the entire team a post-game detention if they did indeed stay there until midnight.

When she heard him trip over his shoe and cuss quite loudly at the carpet burns on his knees, Hermione laughed to herself and tiptoed out of the common room before he could find her and unleash a cranky-morning wrath.

Because it was Friday, there were no classes until after lunch and many students took the opportunity to catch up on their sleep as to have more awake-time left over for the weekend. Hermione had never liked waking up to find she had slept through an entire day, and true to form had risen at six AM. Draco, she assumed, would be spending his free half of the day on the pitch- probably scrimmaging with the Gryffindor, as she doubted Harry and Ron would allow Slytherin another free reign. In her opinion, the one thing Hogwarts needed was a practice pitch; she could do without the headache of fighting over who gets the grass. Honestly, why couldn't they play on some _other_ bit of grass? And use a tree as a goal hoop? Then of course, there would be the problem of who got the pitch and who got the tree. In honesty, Hermione could do with no Quidditch. They could play football for all she cared.

The early morning brought with it quiet corridors. The ninety percent of the student body who was not Hermione and did not play Quidditch would not be caught in the halls or at breakfast for a good two-to-three hours, and Hermione took advantage of this by dawdling on the way to her destination. She talked to portraits, and bickered with Peeves, and experimented with several ways to put one foot in front of the other, including backwards and side-ways, but eventually, the warm plaster walls became cold stone, and the carpeting disappeared from the floors. With a sigh of determination, Hermione stepped in front of the full-length mirror, and turned to face it.

With a high-pitched cackle of malicious laughter, the lean image of Hermione Granger became superimposed with the rather stout form of the Bloody Baron. He eyed her curiously, identified the Gryffindor crest on her robes, and hissed in a way similar to a cat before pulling a ghostly sword from its sheath and running her through. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's _me_, Baron."

"Quisling! Emissary! _Infidel!_" he screeched, brandishing his sword and making sport of slicing various limbs, which stayed firmly in place. Hermione waved him away.

"Stop it, that's cold," she demanded in annoyance, and flashed her badge. The Baron gasped in mock surprise and knelt by his sword.

"My liege," he breathed. "Forgive me."

"Yeah, fine. Emu en utero," she said, reciting the decidedly Slytherin and, therefore, immature and unamusing password. The Baron nodded.

"As you wish, my liege," he said, and the mirror cracked down its center, moving along the wall to either side and revealing a narrow doorway, which would lead to the Slytherin common room.

"Thank you, Baron," Hermione said as she entered and, as the door closed behind her, sighed in exasperation. "Is it necessary to go through that _every_ time?" she asked quietly to herself, and heard a laugh from the sofa near the fireplace.

"'Course it is. Infidel."

Hermione looked up, and the tiny smile of amusement left over from the Baron's antics immediately left her face. Clint stood before her in stocking-feet, looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed and crawled to the common room. Or, perhaps that he'd been in that seat on the couch since the previous day.

Clint noticed the change in her countenance and forced a half-smile in attempt to cheer her. Hermione looked away and shook away all thoughts of the previous afternoon.

"Hi," she said, slightly off-key, and cleared her throat. "I'm glad I found you." Clint lifted an eyebrow as he took the necessary steps closer to her. "I-" she stammered. "I thought you might want this." Hermione turned away and fished a slip of parchment from the spacious pocket of her cloak.

"Oh," Clint said as he took the booklist from her. "Yeah, I do. Madam Pince either doesn't speak English or _really_ doesn't like Slytherin, because she gave me detention for 'being up to something' when I opened my mouth to ask her." Hermione fashioned herself a little smile.

"Oh," she noted in remembrance. "And these. You forgot them in the commons."

"Yeah," Clint said in amusement as she pulled his shoes from her pocket and said the spell to return them to their original size. "I was wondering where I put those. 'Fraid I'd have to borrow some. Dirty feet in Slytherin, couldn't tell you." When she didn't seem amused (or for that matter, happy to part with his oxfords) Clint borrowed her frown. "You okay?" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up with watery eyes.

"Sure," she said, a blatantly obvious lie. "I... I have to go." She turned and left, without looking back and with ears completely closed off to his beseeching calls.

As she left, the Baron emerged from his glassy prison and frowned from behind her before catching up quickly. Hermione wiped at her eyes and smiled at him, exchanging wordless conversation. He bowed deeply and draped an arm over her shoulder, floating beside her as she walked.

Before the head girl and her ghostly company could emerge from the Slytherin section of the castle, a voice from behind halted them.

"Hermione, _please_ let me explain!" Clint begged, running down the hall with shoes untied and no cloak to speak of. The Baron's eyes narrowed as he noted the boy, and he took a protective stance in front of Hermione, drawing his sword and growling.

Clint came to a stop a few centimeters from the tip of the Baron's cutlass, looking both unafraid and directly through the ghost to the small Gryffindor he guarded. Hermione sighed and crossed her arms, taking a step through the Baron, who drew back in confusion. She smiled up at him and blew a kiss, granting him leave without words. The Baron replaced his sword and stood rigid, giving a curt nod to Hermione and glaring slightly at Clint before making his way down the hall and disappearing into the mirror at its end.

"What was _that_ about?" Clint asked turning to face her, and the small smile Hermione had held for the Baron's sake disappeared from her face. She looked undecided and insecure, arms crossed over her chest and weight shifting from right foot to left.

"At the beginning of the year," she started, her voice soft and monotonous. "I set him up with the Fat Lady. Evidently he adores her singing."

"The Gryffindor _tower_ Fat Lady? Huh. I wouldn't have-"

"Yes," Hermione interrupted. "_Some_ people can get past things like that."

"What?" Clint replied, half in defense and half in confusion.

"A ghost and a portrait," she started, looking up at him. "A Gryffindor and a Slytherin. A wizard... and a _mudblood_." Clint opened his mouth to defend himself, but Hermione disallowed him the privilege of speaking. "A boy with an illustrious magical background, who can trace the blood of his family for generations, and participates in age-old, patrimonial affairs to preserve his dying heritage... and a girl who spends every holiday explaining to her parents that there really is no logic behind wingardium leviosa. Whose father repeats again and again 'Well there must be _some_ way to explain it. It can't just _happen_.' Yes it can, Dad. It's magic. This can be magic too-us. We can _just happen_, Clint. Why do you have to make it complicated? Why can't you forget about everything and focus on _me_."

"Hermione- it isn't like that, I-"

"Well, then what _is_ it like, Clint? Because I can't stand that you're having this effect on me and I don't even know _why_." She covered her face with her hands and turned away, letting her guard down for a moment to wipe the salty water from her cheeks. Clint waited for a moment, staring sheepishly at his untied shoes, before slowly approaching her. He moved so that she was again facing him, and enveloped her in his arms. Hermione didn't protest.

"I'm sorry," he said softly into her hair and she rested her face against his shoulder. "I really don't know what else to say. There is a reason, but I... I can't tell you. Not yet; I'm under a _very_ important oath to keep it secret." She laughed softly, and he smiled. "No- I mean it. Written in blood, the whole nine yards- see?" Clint lifted his hand from her back and showed her the fairly deep cut on his left index finger. Hermione frowned at it and pulled away slightly to look up at him. "So you see? It really doesn't have anything to do with you... it's just that I have other... obligations. Nothing bad, I promise."

"Yeah, well," she said softly, looking away from him. "You really shouldn't go about kissing girls you're obligated not to kiss and then leaving them without explanation." Clint smiled and held her more tightly to him.

"I know," he said, sighing. "I'm sorry."

"So I've heard."

xxx

Draco was half unconscious when he made it to the pitch, and the way his teammates were glaring at him was an indication that they had noticed.

"Wha?" he slurred, tugging on his cheeks in an effort to retract his eyelids.

"Malfoy, please tell me you're kidding," Blaise Zabini said, landing on the ground and taking a step toward his blond housemate. "You're an hour and a half late and you haven't got your broom! You're supposed to be _captain_ for crying out loud!"

"Zabini, lay off- Draco's under a lot of stress right now. He's been working his ass off for this team," Millicent Bulstrode said from her broom, taking a swing at a bludger and sending it nicely askew of Blaise's head. He glared at her and stationed his fists at his hips. Draco was looking at his hands, as if asking them where they had left his broom.

"Looks more like he's been working his ass off for that Gryffindor bint and her amazing ability to make _work_ out of _sex_."

"Hey!" Draco said in his own defense. "If I don't do the fucking class, I get my badge revoked. You know what that means, Zabini? No more practice... _ever_. D'yno why? Because _Potter_'ll be my replacement. How much time do you think he'll give us? Oh, five minutes at, I dunno, say- midnight?"

"It's a date," Zabini smirked, "Just get your fucking broom, Malfoy." He mounted his broom and shot off to defend the hoops, an unspoken 'play-ball' to the other members of the team, who began dispersing to their positions. Millicent descended slightly and hovered next to Draco, although he didn't seem to have seen her.

"You all right?" she asked, looking slightly worried, and Draco visibly jumped.

"Clint."

"_Milli_cent," she corrected, eyeing him oddly.

"No... Clint- Clint has my broom, the bastard," Draco said, and started off with a determined step. Millicent followed him for a few moments before speaking.

"Draco," she said, and he paused, looking up at her. "The castle's that way." Draco looked in the direction she was pointing; the exact opposite of that which he had chosen to travel.

"Oh," he said. "Thanks." She nodded and pushed him out of the way so that she could hit a bludger that was on a kamikaze mission for his head.

"Fuck off, Courtright!" she called to the other beater. "He won't do us any good in the hospital wing!"

"Just trying to knock some sense into the git!" Abernathy Courtright called back, a scrawny sixth year with a punch strong enough to knock down a wall.

"Look, Draco," Millicent said, flying to catch up to him, as he'd gone off again (this time, at least, in the right direction). "Why don't you skip practice today, and go get some sleep?"

"I can't do that," he said, eyeing her as if she were crazy. "First of all, it's career suicide, second of all, Zabini'll make sure it's _homicide_, and thirdly... no."

"You're no good to us like this!" she protested. "Zabini'll get over it. Especially when you catch the snitch tomorrow- you just need to relax, and focus. You forgot your _broom_ today Draco. That's like forgetting your wand when you go to a t-fig NEWT. If we don't do something, you'll have some sort of catastrophic breakdown." Draco stopped for a moment and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Maybe you're right, Mil. I'll go and get my broom, and then go back to bed."

"Right. I'll take care of Zabini. And Draco?"

"Yeah?" he asked, looking up at her. Millicent leaned toward him and plucked the snitch from where it fluttered a decimeter from his ear. She held it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Don't get up until morning, all right?" she asked and he smiled sheepishly.

"All right."

xxx

"I wonder if Clint is even _awake_ at this ungodly, bleeding hour. Anyone in their right mind would be sleeping," he said to himself and sighed. "Bet Granger's in the library."

As Draco turned the corner and descended the steps to the dungeons, he heard voices and slowed. The persistent ringing in his ears from lack of sleep made it difficult to understand what they were whispering, but it was obvious that it was a couple of some sort. He decided that it would be most polite to attempt to sneak past them without being seen, and kept his footfalls light as he approached the turn into the Slytherin corridor. He stopped in his tracks when he saw them.

"What the bloody fucking hell is going on?"

Clint and Hermione jumped apart from each other, each turning to face the intruder. Hermione looked slightly embarrassed and overly annoyed, but Clint looked downright terrified. There was a moment of silence in which the two boys stared at one another, and Hermione took the opportunity to leave.

"I should go," she said, and kissed Clint on the cheek. It was obvious, however, that she had done it more out of habit than anything else, as she visibly cursed herself for it afterward. Clint made no comment if he noticed; his eyes were glued to Draco.

When he was sure that Hermione was safely out of hearing distance, Draco rounded on Clint, suddenly very awake and aware of his surroundings.

"I _trusted_ you," he spat, pointing a finger in the direction of his housemate. "You were supposed to be my _best mate_. Even Slytherin don't fuck their _best mate's _girl!"

"Firstly, I'm sorry- I didn't mean for anything to happen. Secondly, I didn't _fuck _her- I wouldn't do that, and if you knew anything about her at all you'd know that she'd never do that either. It was just a kiss, a mistake, and I've corrected it. And, well... she's not technically your girl. She doesn't even know you exist."

"That doesn't give you the right to move in and take her!"

"Doesn't exempt me from it!"

"Fine," Draco said, cold and calmly, and whistled for his broom. "If that's how you want it to be, then we're done. Everything we've been through means nothing to you? All the hell I've put myself through; I had duties, and Quidditch, and Sex-Ed and I _still_ tutored you, because I'm your friend, and that's what friends _do_. And that doesn't change a thing?" He seethed. "I hope you fuck up so badly your father can't see straight and some of the elders have heart attacks and croak."

"Draco, are you drunk? Give me an honest answer."

"No, I'm not fucking drunk! I'm fucking exhausted! It's Friday at nine and already I fell out of bed, made a fool of myself in front of the team, was defended by a broad, _and_ watched my best friend snog the one girl I fancy more than _anything_. So ex_cuse_ me if I'm not up to par in speech and linguistics!"

"Look, Draco, calm down," Clint said, holding up his hands in defense. "Nothing's going on with me and the Gryffindor bird, all right? I don't know what happened- it was just one kiss, and I didn't mean it, it's just... you've got one girl, there, Draco." Draco crossed his arms and glared. "I mean it. She's amazing, just the things she says when you're having a conversation with her... and the little mannerisms and quirks... can you believe, she made me take off my shoes in your commons? How adorable is that?"

"Somehow, Clint, this isn't making me feel better."

"Yeah, I suppose not," Clint agreed, and looked down at his oxfords. "I'm sorry, Draco- honestly. It was the biggest mistake I think I've ever made."

"Yeah, well... just don't do it again."

"I will as soon as Dumbledore shaves his beard and starts having us call him Hurbert," he said eagerly, holding out his palm. "Mates?" Draco sighed and dropped his arms.

"Yeah," he said, taking the proffered extremity. "Mates."

xxx

"Draco?" Millicent asked in confusion as he burst from the entrance hall and shot directly into the pitch. "I thought you were sleeping!"

"I don't need sleep," Draco called back to her, gaining altitude and in pursuit of the golden devil which had previously eluded him. "I need coffee and a half-goblet of perk-up."

xxx xxx xxx

"Do you mind if I join you?" Hermione asked, earning herself a Ravenclaw smile and a lifted auburn eyebrow.

"Ex_cuse_ me? Hermione Granger? Spending a perfectly good Saturday morning _outdoors_ at a _Quidditch_ match? Al, pinch me. Either I'm dreaming, or it's apocalypse."

"Well, I never," Hermione huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "You know what? I don't care." She sat down beside Aly, who had rolled her eyes and attached her gaze on the certain redheaded keeper who was waving to her wildly. "Sucks to you if you don't want me here."

"I'm just joshing you, Hermione, you know that," Ginny defended, smiling madly, and her Gryffindor superior smirked.

"Have they started yet?" she asked, to which both girls gave her odd looks.

"Hermione, the Slytherin team isn't even on the _pitch_ yet," Aly said, turning back to the field, and winced when Ron dodged a bludger that sent him spiraling for a few seconds. "Has anyone ever died playing Quidditch?" she asked, turning to Ginny, who was more so informed on the subject. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Not for a few hundred years, I think."

"Look, the Slytherin teems coming out. Always showing off, they are," Hermione interrupted in an attempt to stop the conversation from going south.

All eyes were immediately glued to the pitch where six green blurs made endless laps around the field, doing daring stunts and making suicidal dives both at the ground and into the crowd. The seventh player, a broad-shouldered blond seeker, bypassed all fancy broom-work and sped into position, as if eager to get the game started. The Gryffindor players, who had had the pitch for an hour or so before the game, surrendered their balls to Madam Hooch, and took their positions as well. Hooch blew her whistle, and the rest of the Slytherin team begrudgingly joined their seeker.

"I want a good clean game," Hooch said glaring sharply at each of the chasers. "None of that ball-in-you-shirt nonsense. And _beaters_ should hit the bludgers. No exchange of clubs will be allowed, except in the incident that one is damaged or lost. Then, beaters may share- but _no one else_." Then, without warning, she threw the ball and blew the whistle, ducking out of the way just as crimson clashed with clover and the game commenced.

Within the first five minutes, one of the Slytherin chasers had to be replaced due to a nasty incident regarding a broken broom and torn pair of trousers. Hermione grimaced and looked at Draco, hoping to share a silent joke at the Slytherin's expense.

"Turn a quarter anti-clockwise," she whispered to herself with a frown, as Draco seemed not to have noticed the game being played below- there were no time outs for seekers, and he was looking determinedly for the little gold-winged bugger.

"What? Hermione, that's disgusting," Aly admitted, looking outraged. "That poor boy! He'll never live that down!"

"Yeah, but think of the look on Madam Pomfrey's face!"

"Ginny!"

"I didn't mean it like that, Aly," Hermione said, although it was, she decided, very untrue. "It's just a conversation I had with Draco a while back. Did you notice he's acting quite oddly?"

"He knows how good Harry is, is all," Ginny said, pointing her nose to the sky and crossing her arms. "Knows he'll have to be on top of his game."

"Maybe," Hermione agreed, but would not have had time to continue her thought even if she desired to do so.

"Ron!" Aly cried, standing up as if shot from a gun. "Oh, you great lummox! Watch where you're going!" Ron, who had successfully blocked an incoming goal from the Slytherin team, had been smirking over his shoulder at the chaser and managed, somehow, to knock himself over the head with a goal hoop. Ginny laughed to herself, but Aly did not seem amused. Ron, over his slight moment of dizziness, waved to her guiltily and blew a kiss before returning his attention to the game.

The sky was getting persistently darker as the game progressed, and late into the second hour it started raining so hard that Hermione considered attempting to build a raft out of the wooden boards acting as stadium benches. Many of the spectators, especially Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, sought refuge in the castle- but the game went on. Hermione never for a moment considered leaving until she could be sure that Harry and Draco did not kill themselves in their attempt to reign victor. Secretly, she hoped Draco would win- for more reasons than one. Firstly, he would surely be a grouch of a partner for the next two weeks (until the next Slytherin game). Secondly, he'd been killing himself to ready for the match, and she feared a failure might put him over the edge. Thirdly, Harry wouldn't really mind losing. It wasn't as if it were a house-cup competition. There was always next term to catch up. Lastly, Draco had not said a word to her since the incident in the hallway with Clint, and although she tried to convince herself that she didn't care whether he talked to her or not, Hermione couldn't shake the disappointment she felt when her attempts at conversation failed miserably. A win might boost his esteem and put him in a better mood, or so she hoped.

Hermione missed the catch. She, in her reverie, had searched out Clint in the large crowd of Slytherin and was begging for eye contact, when the entire box stood up. She had feared, at first, that they had seen her staring and were doing so to shout insults across the field, and the thunderous disapproval which sounded from all sides of her did little to correct her. It was only when Ginny shouted "Dammit, Harry!" that Hermione's eyes flashed to her Raven-haired best friend and she watched as he hung his head in shame and descended slowly to the ground. The realization that Slytherin had won registered in her mind, and she looked desperately for Draco, quelling the excitement she felt at the victory. He was easy enough to spot, shooting to the ground at a much faster pace than Harry had. Draco came to a stop beside Madam Hooch and deposited the little gold ball into her hand, before dismounting his broom and stalking toward the gates. The Slytherin team followed to congratulate him, but Draco stopped them with a cold glare and continued on his way- alone.

And, in the scarlet section of the stadium, the one Gryffindor who had had been smiling frowned deeply in sheer disappointment.

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A/N: Reposted 02/25 with minor adjustments


	11. What You Miss When Making Assumptions

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

Hermione missed the catch. She, in her reverie, had searched out Clint in the large crowd of Slytherin and was begging for eye contact, when the entire box stood up. It was only when Ginny shouted "Dammit, Harry!" that Hermione's eyes flashed to her Raven-haired best friend and she watched as he hung his head in shame and descended slowly to the ground. The realization that Slytherin had won registered in her mind, and she looked desperately for Draco, quelling the excitement she felt at the victory. He was easy enough to spot, shooting to the ground at a much faster pace than Harry had. Draco came to a stop beside Madam Hooch and deposited the little gold ball into her hand, before dismounting his broom and stalking toward the gates. The Slytherin team followed to congratulate him, but Draco stopped them with a cold glare and continued on his way- alone.

And, in the scarlet section of the stadium, the one Gryffindor who had had been smiling frowned deeply in sheer disappointment.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: What You Miss When Making Assumptions

Draco had not returned to the common room until much later than Hermione could force herself to stay up. She had contemplated waiting for him in the common room, but feared the conversation that would accompany his arrival would be awkward and sadly went to bed at a quarter past midnight.

Unlike the other students, Draco had no reason not to stay out. If he were caught by anyone, student or teacher alike, he could claim to be making rounds and easily get himself off the hook. After the Quidditch match he had stormed into the showers and sat naked on the tile floor for well into three hours. It was only when the water started to seem too cold that he shut it off and got dressed; evidently there was only a finite amount of hot water in the entire castle. As he was walking past the girls' prefect bathroom, he heard the very familiar voice of Hermione Granger shout "That's fucking cold!" and, despite his feelings toward her at that point in time, he had to smile at her dirty language.

After drying in the castle hallways and shooting glares at anyone he came across to avoid confrontation, Draco ventured again outside to continue to shower. It was still raining heavily and he quickly caught a chill. Using his inlaid 'better judgment', he sought refuge amongst the Venus fly traps in greenhouse number three. As it was Saturday afternoon, there were no Herbology classes in session and there wouldn't be for well over twenty-four hours. Consequently of the rain, no students seeking extra credit would be found there either and Draco was happy for the solace. He'd never much liked the greenhouses, but he thanked them now for their hospitality.

As night approached and his stomach began to growl, Draco stole the berries from a plant that he wouldn't have been able to identify if the name had not been printed on its pot. It was only after digesting these tiny, lemon-like fruits that he realized the pot may have been mislabeled. He hoped with only mild worry that Professor Sprout had not planted something dangerous in a pot labeled "Bogeybean tree".

In truth, Draco had no idea why he wanted to be away from everyone. He'd been unimaginably upset after his run-in with Hermione and Clint in the hallway, but had convinced himself that winning the Quidditch match would make him feel right again. Unfortunately, it accomplished little other than making Potter furious. Word in the hallway was that Hermione had tried to defend his win and talk Harry into granting him a 'good game', but Potter refused to get off his soap box and proceeded to complain to the entire hall that Slytherin had won because they had had the pitch longer than the Gryffindor. Hermione had dismissed him at that point and Draco couldn't help but to feel smug at the knowledge.

A lot of the time in the greenhouse was spent thinking about Hermione. It had started, really, with thoughts about Neville Longbottom, who had been the only Gryffindor not to need sex ed and who also happened to love both the greenhouses and Herbology. This then led to the memory of the chocolates and a strange irrational curiosity about their origin. The jealousy inside Draco was infamous for making something out of nothing and this was no exception; by the end of an hour he had convinced himself that the chocolates had come from Clint as a declaration of love and his anger toward his best mate returned to him ten-fold.

He didn't understand what had gone so terribly wrong. He wanted Granger to notice him so badly that he sometimes wondered if she'd put some sort of spell on him. Ever since the start of term when the Head position had been thrown at him and Hermione had fallen into his life and onto his couch, something had started to grow in his stomach. At first, he'd thought he might have had an ulcer or something equally serious, but Pomfrey had laughed at him when he'd explained his symptoms and asked if he was dating anyone. Needless to say, this was very disturbing and Draco had since tried his best to avoid the hospital at all costs.

Hermione, contrary to his belief at the time of the arrival of his pre-term letter, was very excited to be spending the entire term in his dormitory. This seemed rather unfounded to Draco, who was well aware that he had been an absolute arse to her in the past. Really, since second or third year he hadn't thought about her much. There were certain times when she caught his eye; the Yule Ball in forth year, the DA in fifth; but for the most part he'd spent all allotted Gryffindor thoughts on hating Harry Potter. She was just this little thing that bit him when he wasn't looking.

But then he'd gotten the letter, and had started thinking. He concocted a few plans to make her life a little rotten and still get a laugh, but he'd never gone through with any of them. He had left partway into the feast to find the common room (to which he had been given directions in the infamous Hogwarts letter) and had just about made himself comfortable when she came bounding in, skipping in excitement. At first she hadn't seemed to notice him; she squealed in excitement and made twirling laps around the room to take in its splendor, or lack thereof. Really, there wasn't much to look at—but you'd think, by her antics, they'd given her a palace. Draco had stood in the middle of the room with an eyebrow raised, watching as she danced in circles around him.

"Oh, Malfoy, isn't this amazing?" she had said, finally halting her spinning and facing him with a broad smile. Draco smirked.

"Which part; the dust mites or the water stains?" She pouted comically for a moment, but couldn't force herself to keep a long face and reattached her grin.

"Oh, I was on the edge of my seat all through dinner!" she professed, falling down on the couch and grabbing a throw pillow to squeeze the life out of. "I just couldn't wait! How did you get here so fast?" Draco was blank for a moment.

"I skipped half of dinner."

Hermione pressed a fingertip to her chin.

"I'd never have thought of that..." she said, then waved it away. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun! How can you not be _excited_?"

It had gone on that way for hours. The next morning she was decidedly less excitable, but just as chipper as ever. When asked why she wasn't cursing the gods for being stuck with Malfoy, she would always insist that she really didn't know him and therefore had no reason to dislike his company.

The odd feeling in his stomach (which he was convinced was an ulcer; screw Pomfrey and all her medical mumbo-jumbo) had only deepened in the months following this. Hermione had become more at home in the dormitory than Draco would have ever thought possible; he'd more than once seen her sorting her laundry in the middle of the commons! This was practical in that the house-elves packaged his garments with hers and she needed to separate them, but to do so right in front of him, with her delicates on top! He'd once caught her wearing his shirt and, despite his efforts to be angry, never made any attempt to get it back. If she ever wore it again, it was when he wasn't looking. She did wash it quite frequently, though, and he'd always place it in her pile when it was his turn to sort the wash.

Their relationship had blossomed from almost un-acquaintances to teasing almost-friends. Their playful, almost flirtatious, bantering was infamous in the hallways and some of the more public debates had been transcribed and printed in flyer-form for the whole school. Luna Lovegood had taken to doing so from time to time, getting stories from the Patil twins and pictures from her boyfriend, Colin Creevey. It was for this reason that the testosterone driven members of the golden trio had been so concerned about the Games picture of inter-house badminton.

As the year wore on, Draco began to realize that his ulcer wasn't exactly what he'd thought it was. He was still convinced it was an ulcer, of course- but the reality of where it had come from was too obvious to ignore. Because he was his very best friend, Draco had confided his predicament to Clint. He had expected a great bout of laughter, but had only been met with a pat on the back. Draco and Clint had known one another for many years, and Clint was well aware of the change that must have occurred in Draco for such a thought to even permeate his mind (much less seed itself there and grow a tree from his ear). He promised to keep the relationship a secret and, to do so, Clint vowed not to get to know Hermione too well. Draco feared that if he did, she might suspect something and he was not ready for that. Then, she had caught them in the middle of a session and the entire plan had been flipped upside down. Clint had gotten to know Hermione better than Draco would have liked and, worst than his original fear of being found out, Clint had attempted to take his girl.

Draco knew that his friend had never meant for it to happen and their history together would not allow him to let a bird get between them, no matter how intelligently she bantered with him and how adorable her mannerisms seemed. He supposed it was for this reason that he had to stay away. He knew that in this state, he might say something he didn't mean and successfully lose his friend. He also did not want to face Hermione. Really, she had done nothing wrong—but he was still angry with her. He couldn't snap out of it and it seemed best to ignore her until he could regain his footing and start feeling normal again.

When he strolled into the common room at forty-five minutes past the break of Sunday, he was surprised to see the tell tale signs of Hermione in the common room. She was gone, but a throw was dripping off the couch and into a pile on the floor, her books were strewn about and open, and the candle wax looked almost soft. Draco frowned slightly at the knowledge that she had been waiting up for him and braved a peak through the door of her room. She was curled up in bed, hugging a pillow as if her life depended on it. The look on her face, which was able to be seen quite clearly from the doorway, seemed troubled, and Draco felt guilty although he had no way to tell if this was in any way his fault. With a sigh, he left her room for favor of his own, then dried and dressed before falling into bed.

When Draco woke up, it was well past lunch. In fact, he had reason to believe that his stomach was the only reason he'd risen in the first place. He put on a sparse amount of clothing and left his room with a hungry vengeance. He stopped, however, when he reached the commons. There was an entire tray of delectables on the table, no doubt prepared by a house elf, and a note beside it. It read to him congratulations on his victory the previous day and was signed with flourish from Hermione. He knew from her signature on important papers that she _always_ signed things "Hermione M. Granger, H.G." in a professional typeface which ended with a triple loop. This letter, however, was signed just Hermione, and done so with elegance and style. Deciding to ignore her quirks and allow her to fill his stomach instead of his mind, Draco dug into the breakfast pastries and selected luncheon specials with ardor.

xxx

Hermione decided (upon hearing of Draco's behavior following the Quidditch match) that it would be in her best interest to leave him to himself for a few hours. She'd have preferred a few days, but the class that night would force her to settle otherwise. Hermione tried to spend some time with Harry and Ron, but they were purely obnoxious in their complaining about the game, so she left Aly and Ginny to be tortured alone and ventured to the safe-haven of the library. This plan of action was quickly abandoned when Clint made an appearance in the foreign language section. He smiled pleasantly at her when he noticed her staring and Hermione blushed slightly before turning back to her book. He checked out at the front desk, beneath piercing glares from Madam Pince, and left all within ten minutes of entering, but the entire episode made it impossible for Hermione to concentrate. She packed her things and left to meander in the halls with a head heavy with thoughts.

Although no one thing could be considered enough to make her extremely upset, Hermione started crying as she trailed her way around the school. She tried to stay clear of busy routes, but still earned herself a few concerned looks. She had been known all through her adolescence to wait until too many small things added up, only to then fall into bouts of tears for seemingly no reason. Clint had rejected her (albeit softly), Draco seemed to be ignoring her, Harry and Ron were complete arses about their lose and seemed to be blaming her for their lack of time on the pitch, and to top it off she had to spend a few grueling hours at the mercy of three dozen seventh years whom expected lectures on the functions of the labia and clitoris.

She sank to the ground just a few corridors from the common room and spent fifteen minutes pouring her heart into the sleeve of her sweater.

When she felt a little stress had been relieved, Hermione stood from her bath of misery and made the short trek to the common room. When she entered, she immediately laughed out loud and wiped at her eyes; Draco was standing on one foot in the middle of the common room, evidently trying to play hacky-sack by himself, with a banana. He hopped around (as he was balancing the banana on the other foot) to face her with a brilliant smile on his face. It dropped when he saw the redness around her eyes and he ignored the grin that marred her cheeks.

"Are you all right?" he asked, but Hermione shook her shoulders.

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked in amusement, dropping her bag near the doorway and making herself comfortable on the common room couch. Seeing that his antics seemed to remedy whatever pain she had so recently experienced, Draco decided to delay his concern long enough to show her the skill he had been working so hard to acquire.

"Watch," he instructed, and balanced himself- eyes on the banana. In one fluent motion, he kicked the yellow fruit high in the air and hopped on to his opposite foot just in time to kick it again as it came back down. He went back and forth in this way for about six consecutive kicks before the banana exploded on impact and squirted its bruised juices across the throw rug. Hermione hid her laughter behind her hand and clapped in approval as Draco took a corny, one-legged bow. He used his wand to restore the banana to an edible condition, then sat on the couch beside Hermione.

As he watched her hide her face from the laughter, Draco had difficulty remembering why he had decided to stay away from her. Clint or no-Clint, he loved her company. Hermione finished her moment of intense amusement and dropped her hands into her lap, looking slyly at Draco from the side of her eye. He smiled.

"Thanks for lunch," he said, to nurture the light-hearted atmosphere.

"You deserved it. Congratulations," she said.

"I heard that you stood up for me against Potter," Draco said coyly and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Harry's a twit about Quidditch," she said, her voice sounding a little strained due to the recent flood of emotion which had included Harry's idiocy. "You won fair and square and all he has to say about it is that Slytherin must have cheated." Draco frowned, because she was so suddenly crestfallen.

"What's wrong? I know it can't be your twit-friends; they're always complaining about something."

"What?" Hermione asked as if the idea were inane and planted a smile on her face. Draco stared knowingly and she sighed, falling more deeply into the couch. "It's a lot of little things. I don't know why I'm this affected. It must be some hormone thing or something; I've been like this for days."

"Little things like what?" Draco asked, ready to listen for once in his life, and changed his position on the couch, opening the banana under the pretence of ingesting it.

"Well... like, I thought you were angry with me," Hermione admitted, and Draco looked up.

"Why?" he asked, bringing the banana slowly away from his mouth. Hermione smiled softly and drew her knees to her chest.

"Well, the last time I really saw you was the other day when you found me with Clint... and you seemed angry then, and then yesterday you played brilliantly and didn't even come home. I thought you were avoiding me." Draco was struck silent for a moment and Hermione averted her eyes from his face.

"That's not... well... it's complicated- yesterday. I just wasn't feeling right, I guess. As for that spat with Clint, well..."

"You're part of that stupid oath too, aren't you?" she said, sounding spiteful and Draco looked up in alarm. "Clint told me that he was under oath not to be with me... and he said that he couldn't tell me exactly why," she said by way of explanation. Draco frowned, but nodded.

"Yeah. I'm part of the oath too," he admitted, putting the banana down on the coffee table, his appetite for it dissolved. Hermione was silent for a few moments, but then gritted her teeth and threw a throw pillow directly at the ground.

"This isn't fair!" she vented, balling her fists. Draco was surprised at her outburst.

"Hermione..."

"I hate this place!" she said and turned to him dramatically. "Pansy... and Parvarti and Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag MacDougal and Willow Barrs... and almost every sixth year Ravenclaw I can think of... they all have amazingly high standards, Draco. They all want rich, influential, incredibly attractive men... and they _get _them. They are all courting wizarding royalty... and me? I couldn't give a damn if the man I were dating turned into a _toad_ at night, as long as he cared for me... and what? I have _nobody_. It isn't fair that they can order flambé while I settle for ice tea... and then they're on their third course and I'm still bloody waiting. And now I've got people sworn to oath not to touch me? I know I'm a mudblood, but this is ridiculous. I'm not as pretty as Pansy, but I'm still a _person_. It's not like I have bubonic plague!" Hermione finished her session of venting and dropped her head into her hands, leaving Draco completely speechless for well over five minutes. When he finally spoke, it was less than eloquent.

"Erm... I-I'm sorry?" he asked, almost as if he were afraid she would turn on him with her ranting. Hermione laughed and looked up with a watery smile.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you like that, it isn't your fault. I'm just... really thirsty, you know?" she said and shook her head. "I sound so pathetic. Ignore me." Draco's brain scrambled for something to say; at this point he'd settle for anything between witty retort and declaration of love. Unfortunately, his brain was too long in processing and his moment to reenter conversation left him. Draco was almost in a daze as he watched Hermione kiss him lightly on the cheek and again wish him congratulations on his win before getting up off the couch and disappearing into her room.

"But you don't even _like_ iced tea..." he said softly to himself.

XXX

"Granger?" Draco said softly as he gently rapped his knuckles on her door. "Hermione, are you ready?" She startled him when she appeared in the open doorway.

"Yeah," she said, shifting to save the pile of books from falling to the floor. Draco was at her service in an instant, intercepting half the pile into his own arms. Hermione smiled at him, but managed to keep her face relatively well hidden in her cargo. "Thanks." Draco returned her smile.

"Are you sure you want to go?" he asked. "If you're not feeling better, you can stay here." Hermione laughed out loud.

"And leave you to teach by yourself? You're serious?" she asked. "Draco, I haven't even told you what the lesson plan is yet!" His smile decreased by half.

"I'm lucky you're my partner," he said, holding the portrait open for her. "Or I'd be screwed."

"Oh that's not true," Hermione teased, all embarrassment from her afternoon explosion entirely evaporated. "I highly doubt they would go so far as to rape you."

"Haha," he said mockingly, rolling his eyes. "Hillarious, you are. Aren't you going to... debrief me, or something?" Hermione shrugged, adjusting her books.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll just let you learn with them."

"Fine, don't tell me. It's not like I can really complain; you did all the work," he admitted, smirking smugly.

"Damn right I did, Mr. Oh-I-have-to-play-Quidditch-at-three-in-the-morning."

"Don't exaggerate," Draco said. "I absolutely never went out at three in the morning." He paused. "You'd never let me play past seven thirty." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm teaching menopause today," she said. "I figure most of them have done some studying on the basics now that their friends have 'graduated'. If they haven't come to see us about making up their essay, they aren't putting in any effort whatsoever. Therefore, being the shriveled bint that I am, I'm going to add this topic to the essay requirements."

"Ohh," Draco said, wincing in exaggerated pain. "You're _evil_."

"I'm practical."

"Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe. I still wouldn't want to be in their boots."

When they reached the Transfiguration classroom, Hermione opened the door and immediately dropped her cargo of books. Every head in the room spun at the sound, the clamor having distracted them from the spotlight in the middle of the room, where Pansy Parkinson and Morag McDougal were quite steamily snogging on an empty table. The embarrassment of drawing the entire room's attention and having caught such an unlikely couple hit Hermione with a fever and she blushed to the tips of her ears. Draco stood behind her, trying desperately to peek around his books and her form to see what was causing such a disturbance. He made himself a peak-hole just as the couple broke apart.

The two girls on the table had very different reactions to the situation at hand. Pansy gasped and covered her face with her hands, jumping off the table and taking her seat in the pretense that nothing had happened. Morag smirked wickedly at her mate, licked her lips, and slid sultrily from the desktop. She took her seat calmly as the rest of the class scrambled into their own.

"Well," Hermione said once the fire had left her face. "Good evening to the lot of you." She heard Draco snicker from behind her, but ignored him as she gathered the books she had dropped. She unloaded the cargo on the McGonagall's desk and instructed Draco to do the same. He sat down and spun in the Transfiguration teacher's chair, looking very much amused and contented in his position. "Erm... Despite the... greeting we received this evening," Hermione started, earning herself a deepened blush from Pansy and self-contented smirk from Morag. "I have an agenda and I plan to stick to it. First things first- the care-takers of our class pets did, in general, a satisfactory job. I'm assigning them next to Morag and Pansy- you may decide between yourselves which pet you'll be taking. They're wandering the castle as of yet, but I will send them to your quarters whenever they show themselves."

"You know what they say," Draco said. "Boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Next, would everyone please come up here and take a book." As the students started moving to the front of the room, Hermione directed a piece of chalk to begin writing on the blackboard. "Today's topic is briefly summarized on the front board. Each of your books has some information on this subject, some in more detail than others, and I suggest that you take the time to learn all that you can, because as of tonight, it will be required on your written exam in order to obtain a passing grade."

"_Men_opause! What the fizzing whizbees is this? When in my life am I ever going to need to know about _menopause_?" shouted one of the Hufflepuff males, who was squirming uncomfortably in his chair as if he rather had to use the loo. Hermione crossed her arms.

"Questions, comments and... complaints may be submitted on parchment into the nearest trash receptacle to be sorted and answered at our soonest possible convenience," she stated, her sarcasm instigating a riot of negative feedback from her audience. Draco, however, looked incredibly full of himself.

"Want to bring out the big guns?" he asked, almost pleadingly, and Hermione allowed herself to be easily defeated and agreed. Her blond desk-mate rubbed his hands together menacingly.

"Draco?" asked a small voice asked, distracting him from his ponderings. Pansy stood before him, the last person in line, and held her assigned text to her chest protectively. Her head was bowed in shame and the long black hair she was so famous for covered her features almost indefinitely. "May I speak with you?" Draco was somewhat suspicious to this request, and admittedly curious. He conferred with Hermione through visual contact anyway and, reading the curiosity she possessed as well, agreed.

"If you'll wait just a moment, Pansy, I believe something can be arranged. Hermione- would you like to do the honors, or shall I?"

"I'll introduce and you can do the wandwork," she decided quickly and he smirked evilly.

"Perfect."

"Attention, students," Hermione called over the commotion. The noise died down slightly and she was met with twenty or thirty pairs of blazing eyes. "It was originally thought that we would have a larger number of students than this, at this point in the course. A third teacher was chosen, for this inconvenience. Because we are now privy to his services and there is such a small number of you, Draco and I have decided that our prensence is really a pointless waste of homework time."

"Hermione decided that part," Draco noted, sharing a somewhat coquettish smile with his partner. She shook the thought of him away and continued with her speech.

"Therefore, we will now only be available at the very beginnings and ends of our sessions. This third superior will take the remaining shift."

As expected, the prospect of having a new teacher seemed to please most of the students. Only a few specific Gryffindor seemed suspicious.

"Right," Draco said, jumping up from his seat. "I'm going to need... yes, that'll do." With his wand, Draco directed one of the unoccupied student chairs to the front of the room, and spun it to face the class. At this point, most of the seventh years were very curious. He spoke some chosen Latin words and, in seconds, a slinky black snake with a head at each end of its body appeared in place of the chair he had placed there. A gasp rippled through the room and chatter immediately ceased. "Everyone, this is Persia. She is an Amphisbaena, and she will be teaching you from now until Hermione and I decide you've had enough of a lesson for the day. She loves virgins, so the lot of you should be fine. Pansy, I believe you requested a conference?"

Draco led the ebony-haired girl from the room, and Hermione trailed behind them, eyeing Persia suspiciously. One of the heads cocked itself at an angle when graced with her stare, confused as to why it was being surveyed.

Once in the hallway, Hermione shut the door behind her. Draco laughed aloud.

"Did you _see_ that? Oh, that was brilliant."

"I thought we'd decided on a rabbit," Hermione noted sharply, crossing her arms. "I never remember discussing a snake."

"We never discussed or decided anything," Draco noted. "You left me in charge of wandwork, remember? I had free reign. Besides, this is working out much better than that fluff of a rabbit. Honestly, who's afraid of rabbits? Pansy- what's more intimidating, giant, two-headed, venom fanged serpents... or ickle pink bunnies?"

"Erm... serpents," she said, and Draco pointed to her while looking at Hermione, as if Pansy was infallible and had proven his point. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Fine," she mumbled and Draco smirked.

"Good; now that that's out of the way- Pansy, what's on your mind?" Draco asked, seating himself rather comfortably on the floor. Pansy looked suddenly very nervous, and glanced at Hermione.

"Erm," she started. "I-I was sort of hoping to talk to you... alone." Hermione, who had no trouble taking a hint, frowned at the slur against her and scanned her brain for some excuse to abandon that specific hallway.

"Maybe... I should go do that homework I've been raving about," she suggested rather lamely, and began to back away. Draco looked between the two women and seemed almost to panic.

"Hey, wait a second," he said, standing up again and stopping Hermione from her retreat. "First off, you know as well as I do that you finished every scrap of homework on Friday. Second, Hermione is your teacher too- whatever you have to explain to me can be explained just as easily to her." Pansy fidgeted nervously.

"Maybe this isn't the best time," she said, looking between the tall blond and his somewhat shorter flat-mate.

"No, this is a perfect time. What is it, Pansy?" Draco insisted, but Hermione interrupted.

"It's obviously something personal, Malfoy, you blockhead. Let the poor girl have a private conference with your oh-so-pompous-and-thick-headed self, won't you?" she said, and he turned toward her.

"Don't... _undermine_ me! I told her you were going to stay here, and you're damn well bloody going to stay here!"

"You're not her father, Malfoy- and you're not mine either, for that matter. You really have no authority in this situation; no more than either of us women."

"Oh, so now I'm sexist, am I? Honestly, Granger, your arguments are so unfounded I'm surprised they don't float away."

"How witty of you, Malfoy. Unfortuantely, I never said you were sexist."

"You implied it."

"I did nothing of the sort."

"Enough!" Pansy interrupted, meaning to shout but sounding defeated instead. "Draco, I love you. I didn't mean to kiss Morag, it didn't mean anything... I'm _not_ a bloody bean flicker. She made me do that! She told me she'd tell everyone I was taking money for sex! She already told Creevey and I can't get him to bloody leave me alone for five minutes..."

"Wait, wait- Pansy, why would I care what you do in your private life? Except for the fact that I'm head boy... but we've already decided that we aren't going to tell on you," Draco said and Pansy looked surprised.

"You're not?" she asked, turning to Hermione. The head girl was quite surprised, as she had been standing idly by under the impression that Pansy had forgotten that she was still an occupant of the hallway. She managed a smile before her time to respond without awkward pause had passed.

"No. You think I _like_ just walking up to Snape and instigating conversation, if I can avoid it?" she joked, and Pansy smiled softly. Then, she turned to Draco and her smile dropped.

"Draco, I wanted you to know that so you didn't think I'd forgotten about you. I still love you," she admitted, eyes glistening with unshed tears and Hermione fancied herself invisible again. Draco, on the contrary, was very much aware of his presence in the conversation and looked extremely confused.

"Pansy... we haven't dated since, what? Third year?"

"I've been saving myself for you this whole time!" she exclaimed and Draco laughed humorlessly.

"For the sake of the class you should at this point be attending, I feel obligated to remind you that you should be saving yourself anyway..."

"Draco, I haven't even looked twice at a boy since we fell apart- I haven't kissed, I haven't touched, and I refuse to let them sit next to me! I'm waiting for you to figure out what was wrong... you said when you did, we could be together again. You promised."

"Pansy... I don't know what to tell you," he said, sounding truthfully shocked. "I... well, let's say I _definitely _wasn't expecting this. You've got to move on, Pans. _We're_ the problem. We can't be just spell-o-taped and expected to work properly again. I'm sorry that you've been rationing yourself all this time- I swear I didn't know." Draco scratched his head. "All right," he decided. "This is ridiculous. Get back to class," he said and gently shoved her back into the transfiguration room. Pansy looked near tears.

"I'm not a lesbian!" she called to him as he closed the door and Draco leaned himself exhaustedly against it. Eventually, he remembered that Hermione had witnessed the entire exchange.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, meaning to talk some sense into the situation. Hermione straightened at being addressed and shook her head.

"No," she stated shortly. "No, I didn't hear a word."

* * *

A/N: Incredible sabbatical, wasn't it? I apologize. I had some fanfiction-hating-on-me problems, and a _lot_ of not-so-free-time. But it's spring break, and I've set a goal to finish at least one chapter of every running story (maybe even FLYT) before the week is out. Oh yeah, and do all the homework I was supposed to do too. Again, I'm sorry—feel free to bitch me out, if you'd like to. And tell me how much this chapter wasn't worth a six month wait. 


	12. Steamy Snog Sessions Are NOT Accidents

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

"Draco, I haven't even looked twice at a boy since we fell apart -- I haven't kissed, I haven't touched, and I refuse to let them sit next to me! I'm waiting for you to figure out what was wrong... you said that when you did, we could be together again. You promised."

"Pansy... I don't know what to tell you," he said, sounding truthfully shocked. "I... well, let's say I _definitely_ wasn't expecting this. You've got to move on, Pans. _We're_ the problem. We can't just be spell-o-taped and expected to work properly again. I'm sorry that you've been rationing yourself all this time- I swear I didn't know." Draco scratched his head. "All right," he decided. "This is ridiculous. Get back to class," he said and gently shoved her back into the transfiguration room. Pansy looked near tears.

"I'm not a lesbian!" she called to him as he closed the door and Draco leaned himself exhaustedly against it. Eventually, he remembered that Hermione had witnessed the entire exchange.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, meaning to talk some sense into the situation. Hermione straightened at being addressed and shook her head.

"No," she stated shortly. "No, I didn't hear a word."

* * *

Chapter Twelve:SteamySnog SessionsAre _Not_ Accidents 

A myriad of lady-like shoes lined the wall outside Hermione's bedroom doorway on Thursday night, pointing toward the doorframe as if waiting in queue to gain entrance. Hermione entered the common room portrait and allowed her bag to collapse on the floor as a heavy sigh rang through her lungs.

"Oh, I'm so trucking _tired_," she complained in a glorious lament, reaching toward the heavens as if asking the gods to grant her the gift of deep unconsciousness.

"I hate when you make unnecessary alliterations," came the voice of the infamous Draco Malfoy, and Hermione stopped her stretch to see him hanging upside down on the couch again, reading a new novel.

"I hate when you hang upside down and put your god-awfully dirty _feet_ where my _head_ may potentially, at some point, rest. We're even." Draco chuckled and shook his head, beginning to take off his socks with his toes. "Ew! Stop!" He laughed again and complied, crossing his legs so that his feet touched only the back cushions of the settee.

"The girls are here," he said, flipping a page, and Hermione lifted an eyebrow, looking around. She was envisioning a line of dancing girls doing the can-can, pouches of one-pound coins dripping from their scantily-clad waists. She then imagined the stupid look that would be on Draco's face in the presence of such girls, waving his galleons above his head while he drooled into a cup.

"So, 'The girls are here', and you're out _here_ wearing dirty clothes and wiping your disgusting feet all over our furniture... _instead_ of entertaining them in your room?" Hermione asked and Draco choked on his own laughter, needing to sit up slightly to regain himself.

"Well, Granger," he said, sputtering. "I'm sure that if they were _in_ my room, I'd _love_ to entertain them. Make sure you tell them that when you see them. My door'll be open _all night_." Sure that before he had been jesting, Hermione was now deeply confused.

"What are you talking about? Who's here?" she asked and he sighed, setting his book down and dropping his head again to the floor. He began ticking off his fingers.

"Weasley, Staar, Abbot, Brown, Lovegood, Patil-- the pretty one..."

"Draco, they're identical twins."

"So says you. Anyway, there might be a few others. I told them to go to your room," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at her. Hermione set her jaw; she didn't like people in her room when she wasn't there. It wasn't that she didn't trust the girls, quite the opposite; it was just an unsettling thing.

"Oh, and MacDougal was here, but the other girls scared her off. Said some nasty things about Sunday," Draco added and Hermione turned to him, forgetting momentarily about her dislike of room occupants that were not invited by her. She glared.

"There are a myriad of reasons why that isn't true," she noted tartly. "Morag doesn't like us, so she wouldn't come to congregate even if we asked her to. If she did, the girls would _never_ turn her away. _Pansy_ could come and ask to join us and we would let her. Make sure you tell her that when you see her. _My _door will be open all night." Hermione turned away in a huff and started for her room.

"Okay, okay, I was kidding-- don't go off all mad. You did that thing you do when you're _almost_ mad, and I can't stand to leave you _almost_ anything," Draco said, peering over the couch at her and Hermione paused just long enough to glare back at him.

When she reached the door of her room, Hermione stopped dead. Her eyes followed the line of shoes that were so neatly placed there and her feet followed soon after, placing her modest mary-janes behind a set of decorated thong sandals. She eye Draco as she made the way back to her door, but he had resumed his reading and all she could see of him from behind the couch was his stocking feet sticking up halfway above the back of the couch, wedged between the cushions as they had been when she arrived. She rolled her eyes and opened her bedroom door.

"Hermione!" was the greeting she received from the half-dozen girls that littered her room. They had moved her bed to the side and arranged themselves on the floor in a circle of sleeping rolls, lying on their stomachs with heads coming together at a common point. A game of exploding snap was brewing in the center and Hermione smiled widely, all anger at Malfoy forgotten.

"Hi, girls. What are you doing here?"

"We thought we'd surprise you," Ginny said, smiling at Aly. "You said we could sleepover, but we knew you'd never get around to organizing it."

"That, and we figured that your weekends were pretty booked with that class, and there aren't any classes until after lunch tomorrow. We promise not to wake you in the morning," Aly added. She held up a bowl. "Chocolate frog?" Hermione smiled and shook her head, stepping over girls to find her bureau.

"So, what's with the shoes?" she asked as she undressed and the girls shared looks.

"That's the thing," Parvarti (the prettier Patil) said. "When we came in, Malfoy was _very_ adamant about it. He made sure we'd taken them off before he let us in here. And I saw him straighten them into a row after he left."

"He's getting _really_ weird," Luna said, and the rest of the congregation laughed.

"Hark who's speaking!" Mandy Brocklehurst (the only girl Draco hadn't identified) jested, earning herself a pillow to the face. She was lying beside a bolster-armed Luna, who was kneeling in the circle.

"So what _is_ with the shoes, Hermione?" Lavender asked. Hermione at first had not noticed her, as she was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall and painting her nails while the other girls played cards.

"I don't know," Hermione said, pulling a graying black t-shirt over her head and fishing her hair from the neckline. "Clint must have told him." All the girls stared at her as she took a spot at the head of Lavender's vacated sleeping roll. She helped herself to a bowl of deliciously buttered popcorn and munched happily for a moment, before noticing the eyes on her.

"Clint _Zimmerman_?" Ginny asked, mouth open, and Hermione smiled sadly at the thought of him, nodding.

"Who's Clint Zimmerman?" Hannah asked through a mouthful of chocolate frog. A foot stuck through her lips, kicking wildly, and she slurped it like spaghetti.

"Slytherin seventh year, French decent, leaving over Christmas to partake in _De l'enfant a l'homme_, an ancient French tradition that guides a child into adulthood. Also, Draco's best friend," Luna said as if reading from a biography, and the girls gave her an incredulous look. "He was in one of my flyers last year. I try to get to know my celebrities before I give them cameos."

"Yeah," Hermione said, drawing the attention back to herself. "He came asking for Draco last week, but he was asleep so I helped him with his French. And..." She blushed furiously. "He kissed me." Seven jaws dropped simultaneously.

"What?" Aly exclaimed. "But I thought you-" She was stopped by Ginny's elbow and the look of her face which clearly said _"ix-nay on the raco-day"_.

"She means, spill, Hermione! Tell us what happened!" Lavender prodded, nails abandoned for talk of the opposite sex. Her suggestion was seconded by most of the other girls.

"I don't really know," Hermione said, pulling her knees to her chest and playing with the hem of her t-shirt. "I thought he liked me... but now I don't know. He said a bunch of things that didn't make sense, and I haven't really spoken to him since."

"He just snogged you and scarpered?" Hannah asked.

"Sort of," Hermione said. "He kissed me, and everything was all right for a while... but he took me off guard, I was trying to figure out what happened. Just when I got around to kissing back he stopped me and said he had to go. He forgot his shoes in the commons."

"Ugh," Lavender said. "What a git. You deserve better than Slytherin, Hermione."

"You always say that. From what you esteem of me, Lav, I deserve better than _everyone_."

"Yeah, well. Maybe you do," Lavender continued. "You haven't gotten involved with any good men yet. You should look harder."

"Or not quite so hard," Luna interjected. "It seems to me that you have a perfectly good man practically OCD-ing for you."

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

"And more importantly," Hermione said, trying to hide the severe interest in her voice. "_Who _in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious, Hermione?" Hannah asked, drawing attention. "Draco Malfoy is desperate to be your shuttlecock." Hannah, Hermione and Luna laughed, as they were the only ones to understand the joke. Luna had been provided a full transcript of Games conversation by her boyfriend Colin and his prized Quick-notes Quill.

"You can't be serious!" Mandy exclaimed, jaw dropping nearly into the bowl of every-flavor beans she held on her pillow. "_Malfoy_?"

"Of course," Parvarti said, slapping her forehead. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"What do you mean 'Why didn't you think of that'? You didn't think of it because it's the _most inane thing you've ever heard_," Hermione said. "I agree with Mandy. You lot must be plastered or something."

"All right, we'll have a survey," Parvarti announced, straightening and raising her hand. "Raise your hand if you have evidence that Draco fancies Hermione. We'll go 'round and see who's inane." Immediately Luna, Hannah and Lavender raised their hands. Ginny and Aly shared a look, before following afterward. Mandy made a restrained and disgruntled sound.

"Why am I always the last one to know anything!" she moaned. Hermione ignored her and stared at her two best friends.

"Ginny? Aly? You too?"

"Well, _Princess_," Ginny stressed. "It's not our fault we're not as blind as Mandy." Mandy stuck her tongue out at Ginny and stuffed some beans into her mouth.

"What's this Princess?" Parvarti, unofficial moderator of the Dramione Survey, pushed in attempt to get the girls to give more specifics to their evidence.

"Last week-- Saturday, I think. Harry and Ron were all in a huff because they had this elaborate plan to make Hermione like them better and I blew their cover, so we all came to chat," Aly provided. "After Hermione gave a brilliant performance in shrinking their egos to a proper size, she asked that we leave and sometime in the future host this sleepover. She said "You don't mind, do you Draco?" and he said 'I'll give you absolutely anything in the world that you could ever want, Princess my love.'" Hermione threw a pillow directly at Aly's smirking face.

"He said no such thing!" she exclaimed, face a crimson red. The rest of the girls were now in fits of hysterics.

"Okay, okay--" Ginny saved. "But he _did_ call you princess. That's my evidence. Aly, there has to be something else for you."

"Of _course_ there is," Aly said, pulling on her cheeks down to illustrate the incredible load of evidence that she held in confidence within her brain. "There's all the flirting you do in SEX ed. What I don't overhear myself, Ron tells me over and over until I slap him or threaten to go to my room if he doesn't stop talking about you. If Draco even _looks _at you in class, _I'll_ hear about it." Hermione spluttered.

"That's not flirting, it's just... _talking_!"

"He's tried to kiss you, or said he's going to kiss you about fifteen times!" Aly countered and Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"He's just joking! He wouldn't ever... he's never really _tried_," she defended, but it didn't seem to deter the girls, who were all shaking their heads at her denial.

"Well, Hermione? Have you kissed him?" Parvarti asked, and immediately all eyes were on Hermione.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!"

"You _did_!" Hannah butted in. "I _know_ you did!" Hermione looked horror-struck.

"How do you know? You don't have evidence! You can't prove anything!"

The girls laughed.

"Hermione, the look on your face and your beautiful blush are enough evidence to convince everyone here," Lavender said, sighing dreamily. Then she looked irritated. "Except maybe Mandy, who is a thick-headed bint."

"Shut up, Lavender, or I'll spill your nail polish," Mandy threatened with narrowed eyes. Lavender looked as if she had threatened to kill her one true love.

"You most certainly will not! It costs fifteen galleons a bottle, and I have to have it flown in from the continent!"

"Belt up _both _of you. There will be no name-calling or polish-spilling here. I want to hear about this lip-lock that I've never been told about," Ginny said, giving Hermione a look that suggested she tell them about her kiss or she would pay dearly for it later.

"All right, I kissed him! But it was an accident," Hermione admitted, hiding her head in her arms. There was a great squeal from the congregation of girls, including quite a few _I knew it!_-s.

"Hermione, I hate to break it to you, but steamy snog sessions are _not_ accidents," Hannah said, unable to hold in her excitement at the thought.

"It was, I swear it was! That night, after the first sex class, we were reading the essays... and he found one, and he said 'Will you help me with an experiment? All in the sake of science'. I was suspicious, but I agreed and _oh God_ it was amazing. It was sort of like a massage... he started with my shoulders, and went down my back... I swear his hands are angel-send. Then he was just... in front of me. I don't know exactly, it was all feeling at that point. And he was touching my collarbones and my neck... and my jaw... and I..."

"_You kissed him!_" Mandy exclaimed, seeming to be crumbling at the influence of her girlfriends and perhaps even agreeing with them. Hermione covered her red face and nodded in shame.

"Well?" Parvarti urged. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"_Liar!_" the other girls chorused and Hermione jumped at the unexpected jolt of sound.

"All right! He kissed me back. He was amazing. It was my first kiss."

"And?" Aly prodded and the other girls leaned in in anticipation.

"That was it. When we broke apart, it was awkward... and I went to my room. To bed. We haven't spoken of it since."

There was another wave of screaming and the girls fell into fits of giggles.

"Hermione, why didn't you ever tell us?" Ginny asked honestly, pushing Aly with her shoulder to indicate that she too was entitled to have known. Hermione shrugged.

"It wasn't like we had decided to kiss, or it was some proclamation of love or anything. Like I said. It was an accident... I was caught up in the 'experiment'. I didn't think it was worth mentioning."

"_Wrong!_" Parvarti chimed lyrically and pretended to ring a buzzer. "Next player! Who else has evidence?" The girls raised their hands, and she decided to pick Hannah.

"I feel that this shuttlecock thing is worthy of explanation," she said, and most of the girls nodded in agreement. "During games a while back, Draco was kicked out of fencing because he was being mean to Harry and Ron, and we let him play badminton with us. If I remember correctly, he said a few things like _'I couldn't keep my eyes off of you'_ and even you yourself said he'd been flirting with you! And I called it! I called it, I _said_ he fancied you!"

"That's not fair. He said he couldn't stop watching me because I was horrid at badminton!"

"So? About half of our Games class is incapable of playing properly. What makes you so special? Except that he's _in love with you_!" Hannah rebutted. Hermione frowned and looked toward her grey plaid boxer-shorts.

"Hermione," Parvarti said. "Do you have anything to say in your own defense?" Hermione shook her head and started to smile.

"Girls, do you want to know a secret?" she asked, and they all nodded ardently. "These are Draco's clothes." That familiar wave of scream washed over her ears again and she grinned as she felt herself grow slightly red again.

"_Hermione!_" Aly exclaimed, but many of the other girls were yelling more obscene things.

"Wore them out of his room, did you? Hot night?" Lavender asked.

"One's clothes aren't usually switched when only _kissing_, Hermione!" Mandy added. "Unless you have really odd snog-customs."

"Would you stop _please_ so I can explain?" Hermione complained half-heartedly, laughing at herself as they had been. "I stole them from his laundry to make him mad... but he never said anything. I wear them all the time now... I'm not sure why. He always puts them with my things when he sorts the laundry. Again, I'm not sure why."

"Hermione," Luna said. "You stole his _underwear_. I don't think he's the only one with a fancy. Even _I_ don't steal underwear."

"They were freshly laundered!" Hermione defended, but Luna shook her head.

"Doesn't matter. You like him." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I? He's nice to me, he's intelligent, he respects _most _of my freaky-habits like the shoe-removal. And he's very cute, that doesn't hurt. Again I ask, why wouldn't I like him?"

"Hermione," Parvarti said diplomatically. "I believe we've made an incredible breakthrough this evening."

"Wait!" Luna said. "I still get to present my evidence, don't I? It's relevant, I swear it is!"

"Of course, Luna. We're eager to hear," Parvarti granted.

"Well. The lot of us came to the door in our knickers, and he didn't even watch us cross the common room. He made sure the door was closed properly, then went straight back to the couch. That is-- before his obsessive-compulsive nature set in and he went mad about our shoes."

"Good observation, Luna!" Hannah said. "We couldn't pass _anyone_ in the hall and Malfoy didn't even glance up!"

"That doesn't prove he likes _me_," Hermione said. "It just means he doesn't like any of _you_."

"But _then_ he went all crazy about our shoes. He must have been thinking of you. It's the simple one-track of the masculine mind," Luna said and Hermione fell backward on Lavender's sleeping bag with a groan. A second later, she sprang back up.

"Wait a second. You all went parading through the halls like _that_? In your nightclothes?" she asked. Looking around, Hermione noted that most of them were not very clothed at all. They nodded sporadically.

"Sure," Mandy said, focusing on her beans again. "It's more practical that way. We don't have to bring anything, or change here. We'll just go back to our dorms in the morning and get ready for classes there."

"You girls," Hermione said, shaking her head. Parvarti cleared her throat.

"Does anyone else have any more evidence?"

"I do!" Lavender said. "Luna's flyers. I always read them when there are 'Hot Heads' articles. You guys banter like a married couple! It's adorable!"

"Luna, could I ask you a favor?" Hermione said, sarcastic sweetness dripping from her lips. "_Stop making flyers!_"

"Oh, don't be such a poor sport, Hermione. Everyone loves them," Lavender defended and Luna grinned and thanked her. Hermione sighed and visibly gave up her argument.

"Anyone _else_?" she asked, hoping that no one would volunteer and the parade of her social life would end.

"I've got something to say," Parvarti noted, giving up her position as moderator for a moment. "It's not quite evidence, but it's definitely something. You said that Clint Zimmerman seemed quite into your little session, but then caught himself and stopped, right? Now, usually I would assume that there is another woman involved. This time, I think it's another man."

"I've wondered myself if he might be a butthole brigadier," Ginny said, and the other girls burst out laughing. Hermione, who felt the need to defend Clint, glared half-heartedly.

"No, no!" Parvarti said through her laughter. "Clint is Draco's best mate. I think he knows that Draco likes you and he didn't want to backstab Draco by taking you from him. It's quite admirable, really."

"Well," Hermione said. "He said that he was under oath not to be with me. That would make sense, except that Draco said that he was under oath too."

"Oh," Parvarti said, frowning. "Maybe there's a third party entirely who has commissioned them to keep hands-off. Any way you look at it, you're a wonted woman, Hermione! Consider yourself lucky!"

"Well, assuming that's true, I wish whoever really _does _like me would fucking make a move already! What good is being wonted if everybody's too scared to tell you?" Hermione exclaimed in semi-serious frustration and the girls all gave to waves of laughter.

"Well," Parvarti admitted. "That's everyone. Except Mandy. Think _really_ hard, girl! There _has_ to be something in your recollection!" Mandy glared.

"Well, I might not have evidence, but I have something just as good," she said, and everyone, including Hermione, seemed intrigued. "I know how you can find out for _sure_."

"How?" Hermione asked in a way suggesting that she didn't believe it true.

"Kiss him again. Just go out in the common room _right now_ and say 'Draco, I love pineapple' and just start snogging. If he doesn't like you, he'll be distracted by the pineapple and he'll ask you about it when you break apart. If he's in _head-over-heels-one-true-fairy-tale-prince-and-princess_ love with you, he'll forget about it entirely."

"No!"

"We _dare_ you!" Luna said, and the other girls seconded her. Hermione groaned.

"Do I _have_ to?"

"You want to know, don't you?" Mandy urged, and Hermione sighed.

"Fine," she said. "Solemn oath of girls not to break dares and everything. But you lot have to _promise _not to tell anyone. Especially Harry and Ron. They'd _kill _me." Seven hands lifted to the ceiling and the girls promised in unison. Hermione heaved herself off the floor and tiptoed over her friends until she made it to the door. She paused. "What if he's not out there?"

"It's eight-thirty. I'll bet you anything that he is," Aly said. "Boys don't sleep. Not at night, anyway."

Hermione sighed and opened her door a fraction. As Aly had predicted, Draco was still hanging from the couch, feet reaching for the sky. Hermione took a deep breath and stepped outside the door, leaving it open on purpose so that the other girls could see.

"Draco?" she asked and he sprang up immediately. He seemed to be panicked.

"Look, if you're _that _worried about the head-foot thing, I'll stop, all right?" he said, spinning to sit properly, and Hermione smiled at the redness of his forehead.

"No, that's fine. I was just trying to annoy you," she said and he smiled, setting his book down. Hermione sat down next to him.

"Me too," he admitted. She smiled.

"Draco, are you familiar with 'Truth or Dare'?" she asked and he looked entirely confused.

"No. Should I be?"

Hermione shook her head and moved slightly closer, licking her lips.

"Remind me to tell you later," she said and, in a second's flash her hands were holding his jawbones. "Draco. I absolutely _love_ pineapple," she said, as instructed, and pressed her lips to his in a searing, burning kiss. Draco was taken aback for a moment, but almost immediately realized the opportunity that had graced him and in not time was holding her own jaw and a large clump of her hair. Hermione's hands moved to his shoulders and down to his chest as he begged for entrance to her mouth and was allowed it. His tongue battled with hers as two lions over a mate. A million thoughts ran through Hermione's head as she kissed him, including how wonderful the warmth of his lips were against hers, and the incredible feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. Behind all of this was a very Hermione-like self-consciousness about the taste of her breath.

When they pulled apart, both the head boy and girl were breathing heavily and holding on to one another tightly. Hermione marked a timid kiss on the corner of Draco's mouth, and it enticed an infinity of small marked kisses to come from Draco's own lips. His little kisses were placed everywhere south of nose and north of her chin.

"Draco," she whispered softly, kissing him once more on the lips. "Good night." He swallowed and trusted himself to open his eyes.

"Good night." His hands melted from her and she dashed away from the couch, running into her room and closing the door quickly behind her.

Another wave of screams met her ears.

"Oh Hermione that was _beautiful!_" Lavender said, holding her hands clasped over her heart and looking almost to be ready to cry. Hermione slid down the door to the floor, restraining her hand from coming to touch her throbbing lips.

"Well, Hermione?" Mandy prodded. "Did he say anything about the pineapple?" Hermione turned to her dreamily.

"What pineapple?"

* * *

A/N: I know. No excuse. I'm sorry, and I'm not dead. That's all. I liked this... I hope you did too! 


	13. This is not what you think

This is not a chapter, it's an author's note. I realize that that is against the rules of Fanfiction and I'm sure this will be taken down very shortly, but I hope it reaches enough eyes to be understood.

I can't tell you how many times you people have chided me for my author's notes, and I don't really expect that this one will cause a change in that. I'm sure by now you've realized that I write them only when I'm upset with reviews and I have something to say in my defense. You can't really expect a defense to be chocolate coated and covered in sugar sweets.

So, yes, I know that there are grammatical errors in my short stories. There're more than likely grammatical errors in this author's note. Honestly? Nope, I don't care. People keep reviewing to bitch me out about A/N's I wrote being sore about grammar and people whining about it.

I'm not perfect. I'm not an editor, I'm not an English major—hell, when I wrote most of the stuff on this website I wasn't even a high-schooler. That's the major qualm I have here, actually.

I WROTE THESE THINGS YEARS AGO.

I don't mind people reviewing to say, "Oh yeah I liked this and I wish you'd update again"(even though I don't plan to) or "I actually thought this sucked for legitimate reasons that I will outline as follows."

I just hate it when people review only to tell me that I was immature and out of line when yelling at people in my author's notes. I was like, 12. 12 year olds tend to be kind of immature and out of line a lot of the time. Don't tell them about it seven years later and expect them to have a self-revelation and repent for all their sins.

Since I'm here I might as well take the time to say a few more things,

I really do appreciate you guys still reading my stories and enjoying them even though they're getting really dusty.

I'm not going to update again, no matter how many times I'm asked and how enthusiastically those requests are outlined.

I was there, too, when I thought Fanfiction was the greatest thing in the world and that I would never tire of it—but I did. I remember one of my best friends-through-Fanfiction giving up on her stories when I was in my prime and thinking to myself, how could you do that? How could you do that to yourself, to your fans? To your unfinished work?

I will never do that. I will write Fanfiction until I am dead.

You will find soon in your lives that things you think are true when you're 14 have a tendency to not be exactly as you expected them to be.

I outgrew Fanfiction. There are things in my life that are more important now.

I'm deep and tormented in unrequited love with my best friend.

I have $20,000 in college loans.

I'm designing websites under the guidance of real designers and for real organizations.

I'm going to Otakon.  the best thing to ever happen to me

There's just no room in my life for the 19 hours of Fanfiction I used to write and read everyday. I'm sorry, guys.

But, this is Priah—Signing out.


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